After Kirkwall
by Hawkewind
Summary: Continues the story of female Hawke and Fenris after the end of DA2. Follow on from 'He left me'.
1. Chapter 1

"After Kirkwall" – 1

They left the Gallows courtyard and ran through the streets of Kirkwall until they found the tunnels that would lead them out to the Wounded Coast. All of them ran without saying a word. All faces grim, anger and frustration clearly showing through. They might have just fought their largest battle ever and won without anyone sporting more than a few scratches, but it didn't feel like victory for any of them. They ran as a pack, the only one trailing is Anders; none of them are ready to forgive him for what he has done just yet.

Coming out of the tunnels, the run slows to a quick march. As they round the corner of the hill, Kirkwall comes into view, in the twilight they can see pillars of smoke rising from several points around the city and at last they halt to stare at the image. They all stand still for a long time until Fenris moves behind Hawke to place a hand on her shoulder; she raises hers to lay it on top. Merrill moves beside Varric and reaches to hold his hand he grasps it tight as soon as he feels it. The first to speak is Aveline with one word,

"Donnic"

Hawke turns towards her, "We could go back."

Aveline turns her head, "We could...you can't. It's all right Hawke, Donnic has sense, he was keeping people safe, and he knows how to do that. I just miss him right now." Hawke nods at her old friend,

"I won't let you lose another husband."

"It won't happen again Hawke, he will be safe. You are the one I have to worry about this time."

"Me?"

"You killed Orsino and Meredith and your friend here killed Elthina." Aveline glances towards Anders who hangs his head, "The only people who will not be coming after you will be the city guard. It will take them a day or so before they get themselves organised, so you don't have much time. I suggest we make camp, make plans and make ourselves scarce."

"Succinctly put Aveline, let's do it." Hawke turns to Carver and Anders and asks them to find somewhere suitable for them to stay the night. As they run off Aveline moves towards her,

"Hawke, will you be all right? I ask only to remind you that all this is not your fault, please remember that."

Hawke looks back at her, sadness and frustration evident in her face, "I don't know Aveline, a lot of people died today because I tried to stop a lot of people being killed. I'm finding it hard to reconcile that it didn't matter what I did. I was caught between two people intent on wiping out the other. I know they both had to be stopped, Elthina couldn't do it, Kirkwall needed its' Champion. I just wish that so many other people didn't have to die along with them. In the future when they look back at this day, will I be viewed as a demon or a prophet? "She shakes her head; she can feel the shock of today's events wearing off and the realisation of the consequences wearing at her soul. Thedas is changing and it won't change easily or without more bloodshed. The thought that it started with her is overwhelming. She sits down in the dirt and puts her head in her hands.

Fenris turns to Aveline, begging her with his eyes to do something. Aveline kneels down beside her,

"Hawke, you have done nothing wrong. Don't do this to yourself. What history writes of you will be mostly rubbish, what people think is of no consequence. We are your friends and we know what you have done and we love you for it."

"I doubt Sebastian sees it that way."

"That boy will calm down. He only thinks of you as having saved the life of the murderer who killed his teacher. Anders did what he did, it was not you, and he has to live with the burden of that. Kirkwall never deserved you. It's time to move on; it's time for someone else to deal with Kirkwall. You did enough."

"All that time Aveline. We both did so much to make that place better. It's all been such a waste."

"It's not a waste! Never think that. There are so many people out there that you have helped and who live because of you. Today was only the wakeup call that Thedas requires to change. The Chantry, Templars and mages have been kidding themselves for too long that their system worked. Resentments were always going to build up. They need to change. When that change happens and everyone learns to live with the new world, you should be proud about the part you played in it." Aveline puts out her hand and Hawke stares at it a moment before grasping it and they stand up together.,

"Thank you Aveline ,I'll be all right."

Carver races back,

"I've found a good place, it's not far." He points a way up the path. Hawke recognises where he is indicating and remembers it was where she found a bunch of escaped mages. Carver is right, it is a good spot. They begin to move off towards it.

"Fenris, wait a moment." Aveline holds his arm and he looks at her expectantly, "Take her far from here, find somewhere quiet you two can settle down, let her talk when she wants to, but distract her when she doesn't. Don't let her dwell on today. Give her children Fenris; give her something to live for besides you."

Fenris nods and moves to follow the rest of them. Aveline turns to have another look at Kirkwall as the darkness begins to fill the sky, "Stay safe my love, I'm coming for you"

The next hour is spent readying the camp. It is sheltered enough for them to build a fire and be sure it can't be seen outside the hollow of the camp. Varric manages to shoot a couple of rabbits and Merrill finds some roots and between them they get a stew cooking. As the smell of food begins to waft, Hawke makes her way round all her companions. She knows this may be the last time she has a chance to talk with them.

Carver looks up from setting out a bedroll as she approaches him and grins at her,

"We haven't had a chance to talk little brother, I've missed you." They stand and hug each other before he steps back, "I didn't miss you for a long time big sister, but I was young and stupid then." They both laugh and sit down to catch up on all that happened since she had left him in the deep roads. He tells her of how much he enjoys being with the gray wardens, despite the negative effects of the taint, they grieve together over the death of their mother and then laugh as she tells the story of how Aveline and Donnic had got together.

"I suppose you'll be going back to the Wardens then." states Hawke, "Will they give you trouble about coming with me today?"

"Maybe a little." He answers, "But I think not too much. They have talked of you a lot. I think they will want to keep track of what you are up to. I will probably be asked to spy on you regularly, so we'll be able to keep in touch."

"Is that good or bad?"

"Mostly good, I get to decide how much I tell them and I don't have to be sneaky. I probably wouldn't be much good at that anyway."

Hawke bows her head for a moment, "I have a favour to ask of you. I want you to take Anders with you when you go."

Carver nods, "I thought you might. There is nowhere else for him to go. Do you think he'll come?"

"I think so, he owes me big time. Thank you Carver."

As Hawke gets up to leave Carver, Anders walks towards them, a look of resignation on his face,"You're sending me back to them aren't you?"

"What else would you have me do Anders? You belong with them, I know most people do the murdering and thieving before they join the Wardens and you've done it the other way round, but at least with them you'll be safe."

"I sort of hoped I could go with you." Anders looks hopeful. Hawke looks at him in disbelief,

"Anders, I didn't keep you alive just so that Fenris could kill you! "

"Still hates me then does he?"

"No Anders I don't think he does hate you, but Elthina spent time answering his questions on his visits to the Chantry, he respected her and Sebastian was his friend. You took both of them from him. He can't be shifted from seeing you as anything other than an abomination. I'm going to have a hard enough time explaining to him why you aren't dead already. Look, go with my brother, I'm trusting you with his life, keep him safe. If anything happens to him I'll find you and kill you myself, there will be no second chance."

Anders smiles, "I guess I really used up my first one. You're right, I'll go with Carver. The Wardens are the only ones that will have me now I suppose." Carver comes up behind and slaps him on the back, knocking the wind out of him.

"Welcome back to the fold brother. It'll be good to have company on the road."

Hawke moves away, smiling to herself as Carver asks Anders what songs he knows that are good to travel with and if he knows any good mage jokes.

Merrill is sitting by the stew, stirring occasionally and sniffing at herbs as she decides which ones are to go in. Hawke sits down beside her interrupting her muttering as she names the herb and listing its uses. She looks round at Hawke and grins,

"This has been the most exciting day ever! I'm so glad you let me come with you Hawke."

Hawke looks at her, slightly bemused, "I'm not sure exciting is the word I would have used Merrill, but it was good to have you along for the ride. Thank you for all your help."

"Not sure I was much help, but thank you for thanking me." She says, "Varric says you'll be leaving now. I hope you don't think badly of me Hawke, but I don't think I'll be coming with you."

Hawke gives Merrill a wry grin, "What are your plans Merrill?"

"I can't go back to my people as they won't have me," Merrill states sadly,"But they can't stop me searching to find out more about our history." Her voice lifts and she begins talking with enthusiastic rapidity, "I'm going to go travelling all over to search for clues. I'm going to fill in as many gaps as I can. Varric says I can stay with him when I'm not travelling and write my books about it. He says he will watch for items too, if I help him research the dwarven artefacts he wants to look for. I would like to explore the safe ways of using blood magic. I saw so many of the mages in Kirkwall use it, but they kept turning into monsters, how can they not control it? I found it easy and I didn't become a monster. I think those mages need to know about that. I think I want to see all the other Alienages as well. In Kirkwall the elves did not know much of their history; I want to see if the other ones are the same, I might do some teaching as well! Do you think the other elves will let me do that Hawke?"

"I'm sure they will Merrill. It sounds as if you are going to be busy. I wish you luck."

Merrill turns suddenly and hugs Hawke tight, "I will miss you Hawke, you have been the best friend to me."

"I will miss you too Merrill." Hawke hugs her back before moving on.

Aveline stands at the top of the camp, her arms folded, looking outwards...standing guard over them all. She turns and watches as Hawke approaches her, a small smile on her face.

"This is it then Hawke, now we go our separate ways."

"I'm afraid so Aveline. "

They both look out to the darkness and the spot of light where fires in Kirkwall are still burning.

"What are you and Donnic going to do?" Hawke asks.

Aveline dips her gaze before answering. "He's agreed to go back to Ferelden with me. It's where we want our baby to be born."

Hawke's eyes widen and she turns to gawp at her friend, "You're going to have a baby?"

"Yes Hawke. It's generally the next step after you marry someone."

Hawke grins widely at Aveline, "That's wonderful Aveline, but won't you miss the guard here?"

"I've trained them well Hawke; there are plenty of good candidates to take over. As long as Donnic is with me I won't miss them too much."

"They will miss you, as will I."

"Don't go all sentimental on me now Hawke, you'll make me cry and you know how I hate that. What about you? What are you and Fenris going to do now?"

"I think we are about to become pirates." She states baldly.

Aveline looks at her stricken, "What? You're going to go with Isabella? What are you thinking? Can you not stay out of trouble Hawke?"

"I want to see a bit of the world Aveline and I want to have some fun. Kirkwall has been so intense and serious. I don't think it will be forever. One day I will return to Ferelden, when I do, I'll look you up."

"You had better Hawke; if you're still alive!"

"Can I ask one last favour...Could you take my dog with you? I don't think he will enjoy life on board ship and I know he likes you."

"Gladly, I've grown fond of him. He will be useful when travelling back to Ferelden."

"Good luck Aveline."

"I wish you well Hawke."

Hawke turns and walks back to the camp as Aveline turns to face outwards again.

As she walks back Fenris falls in beside her an arm going round her waist as he leans in to say,

"Are you still sure this is what you want to do? "

"Yes, I'm sure. What about you, are you still all right with this?"

"As long as you remember the deal breaker."

They approach Isabella who is rooting about in a stray chest that has been left behind by some other long ago camper.

"Damn it." She mutters, "What is the point of leaving a treasure chest lying about with no treasure in it?"

"Isabella?"

She jumps at the sound of Hawke's voice and turns to face them,

"Dark spawn balls! When did you learn to creep up on a body like that?" she cries, and then looks suspicious, "What have I done that I get you both talking to me? I helped out today Hawke, so you can't get me on that one!

Hawke smiles back at her, "You've done nothing but be the best friend a girl could have Isabella."

Isabella leers back at them, "I don't suppose it's something interesting like proposing a threesome tonight, just for old time's sake?"

Fenris coughs and blushes slightly as Hawke laughs out loud, "I thought you understood I don't do that! No! Threesomes are not on the agenda!"

"Pity." Isabella says, "I'll just have to settle for your brother tonight then won't I? Well. What the hell is it? Please don't be doing the lengthy tearful goodbye thing; I won't play if you are."

"No, quite the opposite in fact." Hawke pauses, casting a glance at Fenris before going on, "We hoped you could use a couple more crew members."

Everyone in camp turns at Isabella's loud scream of excitement, "I get to keep you!" she squeals, "Of course I could use you. I thought when you said you would come with me when I left, was you just being nice. I didn't think you'd actually do it. This is great! And you're coming too?" she turns to Fenris,

"Only if you let Hawke deal with my 'alone time'." He says.

Isabella pouts at him, "So unfair of you to deny your Captain. It could be considered mutiny, but I'm sure I can bear with that. I have a small cabin I can fit you two in. Oh, this will be so good! The ship is moored not far from here; I saw the writing on the wall ages ago and moved it. I didn't think Kirkwall's docks would be the best place. A skeleton crew is on board just now, we can leave in the morning. Now if you'll excuse me, I think I'm ready for your brother."

Isabella struts away towards Carver as Hawke rolls her eyes, "I'm not sure I can get him out of this one."

"He's a big boy now; he can take care of himself Hawke." Fenris smiles at her.

They both turn to look at Varric, sitting by the fire and poking it with a stick and chatting with Merrill. He looks up as they approach,

"I wondered how long it would be before you got round to me," he says.

"Leaving the best for last Varric, you know that." Hawke says as she sits down beside him.

Varric chuckles, "We've come a long way Hawke. By the Ancestors, it has been good...mostly. So you're leaving with Isabella and with this broody bastard I take it?" Hawke looks up at Fenris, who harrumphs,

"Yes, the broody bastard comes with me." She giggles, "You'll go back to Kirkwall?" she asks as she turns back to Varric,

"Yes, to that absolute mess of chaos that you leave in your wake Hawke. You get to walk away. I must say that was one hell of an exit. You leave me with great tales to tell."

Hawke's voice turns quiet, "I'm hoping you can help to tie up some loose ends Varric."

"Sure Hawke, what do you need me to do?"

"If you could let Bodahn and Sandal know that they are free to go to Orlais now, I would be grateful. Tell Bodahn he can take whatever he wants from the house, he'll need it to sell in order to get there, and tell him thank you. If you could let my uncle Gamlen know he can move in I'd appreciate it, it's time I got him out of that hovel. I'm worried about Orana; I doubt she would enjoy working for Gamlen..."

"Don't worry," Varric interrupts, "She can come and work for me, and I've seen how good she is."

"Thank you Varric. Lastly, how much of those investments can you convert into coin? I think I might need it."

"Enough Hawke, you are still a wealthy woman. I'll get it to you before you go. What about you elf? Need anything?"

"Nothing I can't deal with myself."

"Thank you Varric, for everything."

"Right back at you Hawke."


	2. Chapter 2

"After Kirkwall" – 2

"Aveline...Aveline!" Merrill says in a loud whisper, "Come and see, come and see this now! It's so beautiful." And waves Aveline over to where she stands at the edge of the trees, her finger to her lips indicating that Aveline be quiet in her movements. A small grunt escapes Aveline's mouth, moving quietly with all the armour she wears is asking the near impossible. The sound of her armour chinks as she moves, this is the best she can do at being quiet.

"What is it Merrill? Why do you need me? We're all tired and sore, can't this wait?" Merrill turns her large eyes towards Aveline, even more silvery in the full moon that washes the Wounded Coast and the camp they have made , and then turns her eyes again, looking in at the small clearing, inviting Aveline soundlessly to just look at what she has found.

There on the ground lie Hawke and Fenris unconscious in exhausted sleep. Still in full armour Fenris lies curled around her, arms enclosed about her figure, protecting her even in his own exhaustion. "Look Aveline, he's glowing!" and Aveline can see surrounding them both the faint blue light that emanates from Fenris, not bright and sore on the eyes when in the heat of the fight and using every skill at his disposal , but pale and soft, gently illuminating the air around them. "Do you think he knows how much magic he works in his sleep; do you think she knows how much her magic touches him? They have woven a powerful spell around each other. Each is concerned about the other so much; they use their magic to protect in sleep. Hawke's magic cares nothing for herself as his looks only after her, but it melds and weaves, nothing can touch them while they are like this. This is a great magic Aveline; I have never seen it before. I have read of it being possible, this is why Dalish are taught to care for the clan so much, the belief being that even in times when they were at their most vulnerable, the magic wrought from love could protect."

"Maker's breathe, but she's right." Thought Aveline, as she stared at the prone forms. She had, like all of them witnessed that kiss at the Gallows Gates between them. She knew theirs was a hard fought love, but kisses given at times like that...well, in highly charged emotional times, it didn't always mean that much in the aftermath. But watching them now... she hadn't realised... "It is very beautiful Merrill. But we shouldn't intrude."

"But Aveline, it is so lovely, you can actually see how much he loves her, even when he's sleeping, and I've never seen his tattoos glow like that. Oh... I could watch that forever!"

Aveline admitted to herself a small twitch of envy. Donnic was solid and deep in his love, but he would never glow and show passion for her like this. "Leave them be Merrill, we might wake them and that would be unfair. Besides, what would you do if they discovered you staring at them? That could be...interesting."

Isabella creeps up on both of them the sound of her earrings ringing gently as she moves, "What in the Fade are you two up to... Oh my! Why oh why can't I do that for a man! I can make them turn red easy as pie, but never blue – unless they died during...not something that has ever happened to me." She shakes her head causing her earrings to tinkle again clearing her head of the unwanted thought. "Could be very helpful in letting you see what you're up to..." Isabella turns to give an impish smile to Merrill. Merrill giggles softly and Aveline gives her a steely stare.

"It's very romantic...and beautiful, don't you think so?" Merrill gushes out,

"It may be so" says Aveline, "But it will not be enough to get them through what just happened,"

"Ah...but that's where you're wrong Aveline, this may be _**all**_ that gets them through it." Isabella interjects. "Don't fret so much Aveline, after all they are coming with me, I'll look after them."

"You? Isabella, you can barely look after yourself! I dread to think of the trouble you will no doubt get them into. Trouble is the last thing they need. Please Isabella, take care. They need rest. They will need care and time. The consequences of what happened today will be felt throughout Thedas. Hawke will find that hard to bear, so many people have died and she will blame herself. She will need you to be her friend more than ever."

"Aveline, I am not as insensitive as you think. Trust me!"

Aveline guffaws and tries to contain her disbelief at Isabella's confidence.

There are more sounds of footsteps as Carver and Varric approach the women, curious as to what they are doing,

"Why are you spying on my sister?" Carver asks as three fingers come to lips in a warning to keep his voice down.

"I would have thought voyeurism was not your style Isabella, you enjoy the participating too much!" Varric rumbles, "Or is this your way of encouraging others to be more like you?"

"We are not spying, or indulging in your peccadilloes Varric." Isabella snarls back at them, "we are merely admiring a beautiful thing that Merrill has discovered."

Varric and Carver turn towards the two sleeping forms,

"When did this happen?" Carver asks, "I knew she liked him, but I didn't think it had gone this far. That kiss at the Gallows wasn't just for luck was it?"

"Oh, you poor boy," purrs Isabella, "You know so little of affairs of the heart. You have seen her only as the sister who always was one step ahead of you. You have been blind to the woman she is and the needs she has."

"I am her brother; those needs are not what I want to think about!" Carver retorts.

"Carver..." Varric interjects, "You were not here, you have not seen the effect your mother's death had on her, and you have not seen the torment she has gone through wondering if she did the right thing by you. You do not know how much she has helped all of us and pieced us all together again from our broken states. Fenris is the piece of herself that was missing. Don't judge her too harshly, she has done the very best that she could."

"I wasn't judging!...Oh all right, maybe I was a bit. I just wasn't expecting an elf to be my brother-in-law!"

Aveline coughs, "Carver, they are not wed...yet, but you are right, that kiss was not for luck and look, see for yourself." Aveline shrugs and indicates towards the pair.

Carver looks and finds himself a little in awe. As she lies there totally unaware of the presence of others around her, he realises he has been too harsh. He had always thought she had it so much better than he had, but he had been wrong. She just had it different. Becoming a gray warden had changed him, made him better and he had her to thank for that. He had said he was with her through the last few days, but that was only because she was his sister. Looking at her now he saw she was so many other things, most of them good and he liked her...and loved her because she was _his_ sister. He had never been just a little brother to her, he was her family and she had tried so hard for her family. If Fenris was to become part of that, he could only welcome him with open arms. All her other choices had not been so bad, why would this one be any different?

"Well isn't it about time we all stopped gawking and let them sleep?" He addresses the group. They all stand around looking a little sheepish and begin to move away. Only Varric lingers. He looks at them both if only to make sure he has memorised every detail of this tableau. He doubts Hawke's story is finished and she will sail off into the sunset to live happily ever after with Fenris, but he knows his part in it is almost over.

"Thank you my friend, it has been a truly great adventure. You have given me stories to live on the rest of my life and maybe given me my own elf to look after." He turns to look down the hill to catch a glimpse of Merrill before she turns in, but sees Anders coming up behind him.

"Anders" Varric acknowledges the mage. "Come for one last glimpse yourself?"

"Something like that." Anders replies.

"Be careful...it's not a sight I can imagine would warm your heart to look upon as it has everyone else."

"Is it as bad as that? Well I've tortured myself enough watching those two, what harm can one more wrench of my heart do?" He peeks through the trees and feels the largest wrench yet. Varric catches the look of absolute heartbreak on his face, the complete loss of hope and feels a little sympathy sneak into his thoughts about Anders.

"Why did she not kill me Varric? I committed the worst kind of criminal act, I was ready to die, and it would have been easy. I betrayed her in the worst possible way, why did she let me live?"

"When have you ever known Hawke to do anything the easy way? You don't deserve to die easy Anders. She certainly was angry enough with you. She was ready to leave Kirkwall and leave them to their squabbling. Your actions led to forcing her into deciding on which side to support. But you are still her friend, I don't think she could live with the thought she had killed you, no matter how much you might have deserved it. Not one of us would have blamed her if she had. Not one of us would have stopped her. She has been a better friend to you than you have been to her. Her ability to overlook and forgive all of us our faults is remarkable. I think she believes as I do – that a man who could bring healing to so many people can't be all bad. Besides, you'll have Sebastian on your trail; he'll bring you that easy death if you still seek it."

"He left because of me didn't he?"

"Sebastian is a Chantry man, of course he left, he needed swift retribution for what you did and Hawke did not give that to him. She will be sorry that he left and she will be well aware that letting you live will mean that he will claim his inheritance in order to wage war on mages everywhere. She will hope that he comes around, but that is unlikely with him. He may well look for vengeance on her. She has given up a lot in letting you live. Don't waste it Anders, do something good with the life you have left."

"I will try hard to Varric. That was why she took me with her in that final battle, a chance to atone she said. She's sending me back to the gray wardens, you know that don't you?"

"Best thing for you, bit of discipline is what you need."

Anders smiles, this coming from the most self-indulgent dwarf he has ever met.

"Why did she support the mages? I thought Fenris' influence would have put paid to any of that."

"You do not realise how much he has changed since they 'settled their differences'. Hawke was the influence for him. She showed him that not all mages were bad, but she understood well enough how many bad mages there were also. He told me though that she had looked into the Rite of Annulment."

Anders looked suddenly intensely at Varric. "I know of this, they nearly invoked it at the circle in Ferelden. It is horrific and rarely used."

"He was worried that Elthina might be persuaded to use it. He said Orsino had mentioned it to Hawke as something he feared. But Elthina was not an easily persuaded woman, she would never have used it and there was nothing to persuade her that it was even a possibility. With Elthina dead Meredith took it upon herself to invoke it."

"So by blowing up the Chantry I brought about the very thing that everyone feared. Elthina was the only one who was keeping all that at bay. I have been so stupid."

"Hawke supported neither side more than the other until that point. That was what moved her. Not that she was a mage herself, or that she hated Templars, simply that Meredith was ready to kill innocents without cause."

"But Orsino became that which gave a reason for invoking the rite. I might not like the rite, but it was put in place to stop mages like Orsino." Anders shakes his head,

"And so we now have an incredible mess. Only we know that he did it afterwards. Meredith will now be viewed as a martyr and Hawke the apostate mage who aided the demon possessed. It won't matter that it was her who stopped him, no one will know."

"They will know Varric, you will tell them. You will tell your tale of The Champion of Kirkwall far and wide, it will spread like the story of the Hero of Ferelden and everyone will know. That, I think, will be your atonement." Varric looks at him horror stricken for a brief moment,

"Like I need to atone! I've done nothing wrong, unlike you, but you are right about telling the story. That is my talent and that is what I will do, I'll tell the tale of The Champion of Kirkwall to all that will listen and they won't be able to stop themselves. I am a master storyteller; I'll make sure Hawke will not be blamed for this fiasco."

"Will I be in your story?"

"Of course, you will be the ugly misshapen evil mage who tried to cast a love spell on the hero and when it didn't work, in a fit of jealous rage, tried to blow up our beloved hero as well as the whole of Kirkwall."

Anders laughs, "So much for telling the truth then."

"Well, the misshapen bit is a bit of artistic licence I will admit."

They start to move away from the trees, arguing over which bits of the story should be truth and which should not.

Fenris whispers in Hawke's ear, "They have all gone now, which one woke you up?"

"It was Aveline's armour that did it for me." She whispers back, "Aveline could never be quiet. What about you?"

"Merrill is not as sneaky as she thinks; she might be able to get past garden guards, but not me. Too many nights lying in ditches waiting for Denarius to catch up with me put paid to any heavy sleeping for me. Not one of them has any respect for privacy, what if we were not just sleeping?" Fenris' growls, annoyed at having been woken and having to pretend to be asleep for so long. Hawke turns round towards him, mischief in her eyes,

"It's only because they care Fenris, and besides, you do look so pretty when you glow like that." She giggles, remembering Merrill's outspoken fascination with Fenris' tattoos.

"She believes I do magic like you!"

"Oh you do Fenris, believe me, you do wonderful magic. They won't be back now, let's do some 'not just sleeping'" she reaches for his buckles but Fenris puts his hand up to stop her,

"Wait a moment...brother-in-law?" he looks at her quizzically with one eyebrow raised.

"Out of all the things they all said, that's the thing you want to talk about?" Fenris stares back at her and then nods. She stares back for a moment and then sighs, "Carver is very traditional, he just assumed..."

"Should we?" The question hangs in the air waiting for Hawke to answer,

"Fenris, marriage is a contract, for some it can be as binding as being a slave to someone. I don't want that you should ever feel like you are anyone's slave ever again. It is not something I would ever demand from you. We are together; I don't need a contract to make me stay with you." She looks in his eyes; he can see how earnest she is in not wanting to make this an issue,

"Hawke, slaves are not allowed to marry. They are bonded to one another by their master, for breeding purposes only. Children are born into slavery owned by a master who does not pay for them. They do not choose who they are bonded to." Fenris looks away for a moment, gathering his thoughts for what he wants to say next. He has to get this right.

"To be married is not merely a contract. It tells everyone that you are free, free to choose who you want to be with for the rest of your life, tells everyone; 'Here is this person that I love'. Carver's remark also indicates acceptance into a larger family, I have not known family for a long time, but I remember it feeling good, even though we were slaves. For the Fog Warriors, family was everything and marriages only made it stronger. Carver called me brother without even thinking about it. I liked it. I think I would like it even more to be called husband, I would be honoured if you would let me call you wife." He looks at her, pleading with his eyes, this is not another form of slavery for him, this is stepping fully into the world of free men and he wants to take Hawke with him.

"Oh Yes! Yes! Yes!" she hugs him and pulls him in close.

Hawke jumps up and moves to the point at the top of the hill where she can look down and see all the rest of their group around the camp fire and screams at the top of her lungs,

"WE'RE GETTING MARRIED!"

Varric looks up and then buries his head in his hands groaning, "Oh Shit!" over and over into his hands.

Carver looks at him puzzled, "Varric, is this not a good thing?"

Varric turns his head to look at Carver, "Oh yes boy, it is a very good thing, but it means the whole time we were talking up there, they were not sleeping, they heard everything."

"Oh Shit!"


	3. Chapter 3

"After Kirkwall" – 3

The sun rises in a cloud free sky on the wounded coast. The group break camp quickly and gather round to finalise their plans. Hawke steps forward, ready to go over what they are all doing, just as she opens her mouth, Aveline steps forward,

"No Hawke, not this time. Plans have changed slightly. We're going to tell you what to do for a change."

"What?" Hawke looks around all the faces and they just grin back at her.

"No argument," Aveline continues, "If you didn't want this to happen, you should never have made your announcement last night. We've been talking, when we know you weren't listening in and pretending to be asleep." Aveline gives Hawke a glare. Hawke at least has the decency to look a little shamed faced about that. "We are all going back to Kirkwall, we all have things to do, but you are going to stay aboard Isabella's ship. We can't risk you being seen."

"What are you talking about? Are you taking me prisoner?" Hawke looks worried. This does not feel right, why is Aveline in control? She turns to look at Fenris who just shrugs his shoulders.

"You'll find out. Right everyone – move out!"

Hawke finds herself flanked by Carver and Aveline and marched down the path to the shoreline. Merrill runs ahead, while Varric walks at her back clutching Bianca in his hands and though he is smiling, his stance looks like he might just be prepared to use it if she steps out of line. She catches sight of Fenris loping to the side, but he doesn't look angry and he doesn't look like he is going to stop this any time soon. She feels trepidation, but these are her friends, would they really hurt her?

She feels panic begin when they reach the small boat and Aveline instructs her to get in. Isabella, Carver, Anders and Merrill step in the boat beside her.

"We'll see you in Kirkwall." Aveline states, Isabella nods back at her and the men start rowing out to the ship anchored out beyond the rocks. Hawke's panic builds up even more as she sees Fenris running off with Varric and Aveline.

"What are you doing?" Hawke asks the boat crew as they quickly draw towards the ship, the tremor in her voice giving away her building anxiety. Merrill is the one who gives her an answer, although it is difficult to understand her through her giggles,

"Oh Hawke, have you not guessed yet?" Hawke finds her anxiety is making it hard to think. She takes a few deep breaths and tries to settle her thoughts enough to think it through. She knows the answers are there to be found, but she needs to relax so she can figure this out. She manages a few more deep breaths before the boat bumps against the side of the ship and Isabella shouts for the rope ladder to be rolled down.

"Oh, just climb up Hawke. "Says Isabella, "we are not going to hurt you and I'm finding it hard to believe you are this dense and haven't seen through us yet." Hearing that they didn't plan on hurting her helped her relax a little more. It helped a little more when a hand appeared to assist her to get over the rail when she reached it. On stepping on to the deck she found it belonged to a small whippet of a man, deeply tanned, a shock of sun bleached hair, wearing a leather jerkin with nothing underneath and short leather trousers. "Welcome aboard M'Lady, Argo here." He says while shaking her hand furiously and smiling enough to show all his black and missing teeth.

"Argo, let go of her! She's going to be working with us; you don't need to give her your star treatment!" Isabella cries at him as she comes over the rail.

"Aye Cap'n." He says, but continues to stare at Hawke and shaking her hand until she actively pulls it away.

"Pleasure to meet you Argo." Hawke says as Argo continues to look at her with his wide pale blue eyes.

"Aw Cap'n, quit jessin' wi' me. Tha there's proper M'Lady." He says as his tongue licks round his lips.

"Argo! Go get the others, up anchor; we're sailing back to Kirkwall." Isabella shouts at him and with one last blinking wide eyed look at Hawke he disappears.

Hawke turns to Isabella, "Does he get 'alone time'?"

"You felt that handshake Hawke, the man's a magician with his hands!" Hawke shudders and closes her eyes and vows never to ask Isabella any more questions about 'alone time'.

As Anders and Carver climb aboard, Argo returns with three other strange looking men who begin hauling up the small skiff to the side of the ship. Isabella starts barking orders at them and then at Carver and Anders and moves to the wheel as the anchor comes up and then the ship starts to move. Hawke stands with her hands on the rail and feels the wind about her. She remembers the trip to Kirkwall all those years ago, it had been nothing like this, and this was wonderful. She could feel the last tendrils of anxiety leave her stomach and began to smile as things fell into place and she finally realised what her friends were up to.

Merrill comes to stand beside her, "You got it then?"

"You all wanted to give me a better send off than the fireworks of yesterday and what better excuse for a party than a wedding?" She raises her eyebrows at Merrill.

"Isn't exciting? You and Fenris getting married. I've never seen a wedding aboard a ship before. I hope there's cake, I love cake."

"Does Fenris know?"

"Of course he does Hawke; he was up and about long before you this morning. We told him then."

"And how is it he did not get abducted?"

"We didn't think he would take it too well."

Hawke turns to give Merrill an indignant stare, "But you all thought I would take it without any trouble?"

"Well, Hawke, he's much better with a sword than you are. Besides, we didn't want to give him an excuse to kill Anders...or me." Merrill frowns. "Varric said we would need to tell him anyway if we wanted it today."

Hawke gives her a puzzled look, "Why is that?"

"He told Varric weeks ago he was going to ask you to marry him. He'd asked Varric about the papers that were required and asked him to recommend a jeweller to make rings. He told Varric he had spoken to Elthina about it and Sebastian was helping him understand what was involved in the ceremony. Aveline said she found out after he'd spoken to Donnic, she said Donnic had told him to get new clothes made up. He didn't tell Isabella, but she just knew, said that men get a look on their face, she tried to explain it to me, but I didn't understand. Varric said the rings were ready and that was why we would be better to tell him." Merrill looks at Hawke who is has her eyes closed and seemed to be gripping the rail particularly tightly, "Are you all right Hawke? "

"You all knew?"

"Oh no Hawke, Anders didn't know and of course your brother, but he wasn't here then was he?"

Hawke shakes her head slowly and then a small smile appears. She had been so set on not forcing him to make any commitment that she had not realised he'd already done it. Fenris had only asked her last night and now it was happening. Today was going to be her wedding day. She turns her head up all the better to feel the breeze in her hair and sees it will not be long before they are in Kirkwall. The plumes of smoke that were there last night have gone. Looking at it now from here, she knows she does not want to go back. Staying on board the ship is an instruction she will be happy to stick to.

"Well Merrill. What happens now? What do you need me to do?"

"You Hawke? You have not to do anything. We will do it all for you. My job is to make sure you stay here."

"What jobs does everyone else have?"

"Oh no Hawke, that's secret, I'm not allowed to tell you. It's all to be a surprise."

Hawke laughs inwardly, Merrill has told her so much, there can't be many secrets left to tell. They stand together at the rail watching Kirkwall come closer and closer. Isabella joins them.

"I'm going to take the ship into the dock right at the end, it's usually empty and it should be quieter. Hawke, I want you to stay down in my cabin. I have cargo ready to be loaded; once that's done we'll head back out. Don't come up until we're back out again. I hope the rest of the gang will have boarded by then. If not they'll be left behind."

"You can't leave Fenris behind Isabella!" Merrill says in a raised voice.

Isabella turns a face, terrifying in its seriousness, to Merrill, "I can and I will Merrill, it's much too dangerous to stay here any longer than necessary. I wasn't going to pick up this cargo at all before we left, but it gives us an excuse to be here. If Fenris wants to marry his lady love, he'll be here before we go or he will have to swim to get to her. I'm not going to risk losing another ship"

Isabella turns to Hawke, all seriousness gone, "Right, let's get you down below."

Varric, Aveline and Fenris ran the same road they had ran the day before, only back the way they came, Hawke's dog running alongside. They knew it was likely they would be in Kirkwall before the ship arrived because of the shortcut created by the tunnels, but it would still be a close call, and they knew it would only take about an hour before the ship was loaded and Isabella would leave. It did not leave them much time to do what they needed to do. They came out of the tunnels at lowtown, not knowing what was going to meet them. Lowtown was quiet, unusually quiet, but for now that was just what they needed.

Varric grabbed a cloak from a body and handed it to Fenris, "As you've pointed out many times, you stick out, cover up the hair and the spiky suit with this." Fenris puts it on quickly, "This is where we split up, if all goes well we'll see each other back at the ship." Fenris and Aveline just nod back at him in reply before heading off.

Aveline has no idea where Donnic might be, but decides to head for the Gallows taking the dog with her. It was the civilians from there he said he was going to help. She would check out patrol routes along the way and see if she could find any guards who could help. If he wasn't at the Gallows, she would head for the barracks. If he wasn't there then she would tear Kirkwall apart until she found him. She did not care for deadlines to get back to the docks; she was going nowhere until she found her husband.

As it turned out, he found her. As she approached the Gallows, Donnic called out and came running towards her, slamming into her to hold her tight for what seemed like an age.

"Are you all right?" they both said together and then laughed in relief as they each checked the other to make sure they were indeed all right. It wasn't until she was sure about this that Aveline looked around. The remains of templars, mages and sentinels all surrounded the strange stone that had been Meredith in a foul bloody mess.

"Donnic, where is everyone?"

Donnic wipes his brow with the back of his hand, "Civilians from around here are all up at the Palace, it was the only place big enough to take them all, the guards are all there as well, keeping order. Cullen rounded up the Templars that were left, they left to go and find stray mages...he said he was going to persuade them to return to the circle, but I haven't seen any of them return. I slept here after I made sure all the people were taken care of. I thought this was where you would come. I'm glad I was right. I see you brought a friend." The dog sniffs at Donnic and whines as Donnic pets his head.

Aveline explains what is happening with Hawke and Donnic whistles, "We better get going then."

Aveline takes his face in his hands, "When this is over, we come back here talk to the guard and then leave, I'm not staying a moment longer Donnic."

"Fine by me my love. Just one more thing: Do we need to get them a gift?"

Varric heads first to the Hanged man. All streets are deserted apart from a few mage bodies and the sodden remains of Templars that have been blasted by spells. As he walks he does see curtains twitch at windows as he passes. Good he thinks, at least they have been sensible enough to stay indoors. The door to the Hanged Man is locked, but Varric wastes no time in getting past it. He opens the door slowly and peeks round. The place is quiet, but as he steps through the vestibule, he finds he is faced with the regulars and barmaids, all holding daggers and rusty swords pointing straight at him,

"Hey! Hey! Hey!" he says, putting his hands up in supplication.

A voice from the back speaks up, "It's OK everybody, it's only Varric." The swords and daggers lower to various groans and sighs and they all turn their back on him. Only Edwina comes to him,

"Varric, are you all right? Where have you been? Can I get you something? Oh ...who cares?" Edwina stops her questions and then kisses him full on the lips.

Varric smiles at her afterwards and asks, "Would you like to come to a wedding?"

"There's a wedding today?" she exclaims.

"Yeah, sudden affair, help me out. Fill a sack with wine and whatever food you can find. I've got a few things to pick up and then we can go."

"Sure Varric, for you, anything. A wedding will be so much better than this place."

They leave the Hanged Man laden with sacks and Varric carrying his lockbox. Varric explains to Edwina, there is one more place he has to go before they can go to the wedding. He hurries round to Gamlen's house. About to burst through the door, he thinks better of it after what faced him when he went into the Hanged Man and decides to knock on the door,

"Gamlen its Varric here, open the damned door." The door opens suddenly and Varric finds himself faced with a young woman, daggers at the ready. Gamlen's head appears from around her shoulders,

"What do you want dwarf?" he sneers, "This is not the best time for a visit."

"You are a weasel of a man Gamlen, but I thought you should know, your niece is getting married before she leaves for good, thought you might like to come along."

The girl lowers her daggers, "Hawke, you were with Hawke, I remember you. She's getting married? She's leaving?" she turns to face Gamlen, "Dad, we have to go." Gamlen looks like he wants to say no, but his face softens as he looks at his daughter and nods. "Before we go. Dad, get the box."

Gamlen looks at her with a pained look on his face, "I was saving that for you."

"Dad, you were saving that box before you even knew I existed. Get it, we owe her that much."

Varric is growing impatient with the delay, "What is it with the box?"

"It has our grandmother's wedding dress in it."

Fenris hurries first to the Alienage to a small house not far from where Merrill stays, here the streets are empty. He takes a breath before knocking on the door. It opens only slightly and an eye peeks through and widens as she recognises who has come calling.

"Leto?"

Fenris winces at the use of his old name, but keeps his temper, "You have to come with me."

"Why would I come with you? The last time we met, you nearly killed me!"

"You have to. I'm not going to kill you. You are my sister, you have to come."

"Leto, you have to tell me more than this. Where do you want me to go and why do I have to come?"

Fenris takes another deep breath," I have been having you watched, I know you have not used your magic since I killed Denarius, so you are not as bad as I thought. I am getting married today, you are my family, and you should be there. I know you work for Jean Luc the tailor; I need the suit I ordered from him. After this I am leaving Kirkwall."

The door opens wider, "You're marrying that mage human I saw you with aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Give me a moment. I will come." She shuts the door and returns a few moments later carrying a small box and Fenris notices she has brought her staff with her. Ignoring the box he asks,

"Why have you brought that?"

"If you want me to come, my staff comes with me."

Fenris frowns, but does not refuse her.

He indicates that she should follow him and they make their way up to Hightown.

As he makes his way towards what was his home, they see the results of Anders crime. Everywhere is coated in a fine layer of dust. Many of the windows are shattered. They can see that the closer to Chantry Square they get the small pieces of rubble get larger and larger. Fenris enters the mansion and goes directly up the stairs, Varania following. She can't help but look around at the crumbling walls, thick layer of dust and faded decoration. Once up the stairs she looks round the room and sees the cot in the corner. Fenris has his hand in a hole in the wall and pulls out his own small box. He then grabs the book on the table.

Varania stands and stares at him, "This is where you've been living?"

"Yes." He states simply.

"I remember coming here before you...This is the home of the merchant who sold Denarius the Lyrium for your...procedure."

Fenris blinks as he thinks about what she has just said;"Do you know any magic that would burn this place?"

"Yes, it has been a while but I think I could do it."

"Then do it."

Varania takes her staff and aims at the tattered curtains, the fire reaches out from her staff and the curtains ignite.

They walk out side by side.

"Jean Luc's storeroom is just here." Varania says as they turn a corner. A large boulder lies in front of the door, blocking the way in. Fenris lifts it out the way and her eyes widen as she sees how easily he lifts it. He shoulders open the door and they walk in. Varania walks immediately to the rail at the back of the room and unhooks the suit, "It's this one isn't it?" Fenris nods and she smiles, "I made this one."

They move out and head towards the Hawke Mansion. Fenris reaches the door and tugs at the bell pull. Almost immediately the door opens a crack, but as Bodahn sees who it is, he pulls it wide open,

"Ser Fenris, it is so good to see you. We were afraid you all had been hurt in the explosion. Do you know where Messere Hawke is? None of us have seen her, we are so worried."

As Fenris walks in with Varania, he sees that Sandal and Orana are also in the hallway as well as another man he does not know who has daggers drawn. He begins to reach for his sword when Varania rushes past him,

"Hamahakis? Is that you?" she addresses him. The man puts down his daggers, "Mistress Varania?"

Fenris takes note of the human who wears the light leather armour favoured by rogues, like his own it is black and made of spirit hide. He can see he also has tattoos like his own, but not like them, they are finer and spread like a web over his body, even up underneath his short black hair. The man looks from Varania directly at Fenris, "You are the wolf, and I saw you when you killed Denarius."

Varania turns to Fenris, "This is the man who replaced you once Denarius realised it was going to take longer that he thought to get you back. The same was done to him as was done to you, only he used silverite instead. Denarius thought that this time speed and agility would be more controllable. He did not want to create a weapon with your strength again."

Fenris looks at the man, "Are you here to kill me?"

"No Wolf, I am not. I came to see Orana."

Fenris nods. He is curious about this man, but he is becoming frustrated and impatient to get back to the docks. The stories will have to wait.

"I apologise, I have little time. I need to talk with Sandal." Sandal jumps up and down at the mention of his name,

"Enchantment?"

Fenris kneels done to be level with Sandal's face and holds out the small box he picked up from the mansion.

"Sandal this is important. Today I marry Messere Hawke." He is aware of gasps from Bhodan and Orana at his back, "I have these rings which will be our wedding rings. I want a special enchantment for them, but I have no runes or coin to buy them or pay you. Can you help me?"

Sandal looks at Fenris and a beatific smile comes over his face. "Not enchantment." He says quietly, he then takes the rings from the box and closes his eyes as he encloses them in his hands. An aura of white light develops around his hands for a few moments, before dissipating.

"That's not possible!" Varania blurts out, "He's a dwarf and he does magic!"

Sandal carefully places the rings back in the box. He then moves forward to whisper in Fenris' ear. "Once on, never take off. Bring good life, good health, and good little ones." Fenris bows his head to Sandal in thanks.

He then turns to Bhodan, "I am sorry, I have to leave now or she will have left already."

Bhodan jumps in front of him "Wait! We will come with you! I just have to bring the box." As Bhodan runs up the stairs, Orana looks at Hamahakis, "We need to come too. I need to speak with my mistress." Bhodan returns with a chest almost as large as he is but carries it as if it is no more than a piece of parchment in his hands.

"Come then, we shall have to hurry." Fenris leads them out of the door and they race to the docks.

Isabella paces back and forth alongside the rail of the ship. This is not good. It has all taken longer than it was supposed to and her seer senses are tingling, trouble is on the way. She knows this feeling, she has got out of many bad situations before they have happened because of it and she can feel if they don't go soon, she will not be able to avoid this one.

It had started as soon as they docked. There was no one at the warehouse to let her in to get the cargo. She had had to go herself and unlock the door and then find her manifest. It had seemed to take an age to find where her cargo was, but at last she found it and ordered her crew to load it, sending Anders and Carver to help out.

The next thing had been Merrill.

"Isabella, we have forgotten something very important. Flowers!"

"Merrill, it's too late now, we'll just have to do this without flowers. Besides where around here would we get them? It's Kirkwall, nothing grows here."

Merrill jumps up and down, "I know! I know!" and before Isabella can stop her, she has ran down the gangplank and off into the city. Isabella screaming after her to get back.

The only one left on the ship apart from Hawke, who by the sound of it had fallen asleep on her bed, Isabella had started the pacing. The loading of the cargo had been going reasonably well, until one of the loading carts had broken its wheel and it had slowed up after that. All the while that tingling was getting stronger and stronger.

The first to return was Varric and guests. Guests! She screamed in her head, but at least they had brought food, wine and Varric had brought the necessary documents. They had wanted to wake Hawke right away, but Isabella had forbid them. As long as she was sleeping, she was getting no bother from her. She sent Edwina and Charade down to the galley and Varric had kept the old man happy by playing cards.

Aveline had returned next with Donnic and the dog in tow. They had brought more food and wine, which Donnic had taken down to the girls in the galley. Isabella explained the tingling to Aveline, who had learned to listen to Isabella's notions, so she and Donnic had agreed to stand guard at the ramp to the cargo hold.

Merrill came back next, although Isabella didn't recognise it as Merrill at first. All she saw was a big blob of various colours. Merrill was covered in flowers. She had stuck stems into her belt, her jacket, her boots, her backpack, and her sleeves, her pockets in fact anywhere where a stem could catch and she was holding massive bunches in her arms.

"Where did you get all these?" Isabella had stared at her in disbelief.

"It was strange," Merrill explained, "The palace was full to bursting with people, but there was no one in the viscount's garden, not even one guard today." Isabella had gone pale; Merrill had risked going back to that bloody garden. She could have brought a pile of guards after her. It was the Maker's own luck that there had been no one there.

"Go and do whatever it is you want to do with these...these things!" Isabella screeches at her, the tingling is still building and making her irritable, "Stay sharp, something is coming." She turns back to the rail and looks out over the docks, her eyes searching everywhere. The tingling is becoming unbearable, but there is nothing to see.

"Where are you, you skinny elf? Don't make me turn her best day into her worst, get your skinny arse back here right now." She talks to the wind, if only it could carry her voice to him and hurry him up.

"Cap'n?" the booming voice of a large giant of a man shouts up at her. Isabella looks down to see that it is Pawl. The man stands, his large hands on his hips at the waist of his leather breeches. Sweat running from his hairless head all the way down over his bare-chested trunk and thick muscular arms, "Two more crates and we're done Cap'n, those two you brought with you are bringing them in." Oh Maker! If she gets through this day that man is definitely next for 'alone time'.

"Good work! Get your butts back up here, get ready to sail, we're leaving!"

Pawl raises his hand to his forehead in acknowledgement of her orders and races up the ramp.

Merrill races over to her, concern clear on her face, "Isabella, we can't leave, Fenris is not back yet!"

"They were all well warned Merrill, we can't stay here. I _know_ we can't stay. Something's coming and we have to get away from here. Fenris will catch up with us." Isabella feels an echo of Merrill's concern in herself, but this is the same feeling she had before the storm that took the Siren's Call, she will _not_ lose another ship.

Anders and Carver appear at the Warehouse door with the last of the crates; Isabella allows herself a breath of relief...almost there. Then it happens.

Anders and Carver are halfway between the warehouse door and the ship, another warehouse door along the quay, between them and the ship opens suddenly and Templars start streaming through, at the same time, another stream of them appear through the door that Anders and Carver have just exited, they are all caught between them. A voice rings out, "That's the murdering bastard, get him!" Isabella can only watch, as the Templars start moving towards the two men and more templars are still streaming through the warehouse doors. Isabella screams in frustration at her own stupidity, it is Anders they want, not Hawke. He is the one she should have confined to a cabin and she has sent him out to load up cargo, walking about easy for anyone to have spotted. She would happily leave the Templars to get him, damn the man, he was a murderer and deserved whatever the Templars had in mind for him, but Hawke had wanted him alive and Hawke's own brother is beside him ready to defend him. Anders will not be captured without Carver being caught as well.

Anders has put up a magical shield surrounding himself and Carver, Carver has his sword out ready to defend them both, facing the group of Templars that have come behind them, but Isabella can see it will not be enough, the two will be overwhelmed by sheer numbers, Aveline, sword out races towards the templars at the other end, Donnic remains at the ramp, the ship's cargo hold still open and fully exposed. Isabella barks back at Varric and Merrill, "Cover Donnic! Don't let them get on the ship!" Isabella leaps over the ship's rail to land on the quay and races to join Aveline.

Varric pulls out Bianca and stands beside Merrill, he turns his head for a moment and roars, "Charade! If you're any good with those blades your help would be appreciated right now!" There is a breath of air as he feels Charade fly past him to leap over the rail following the same path as Isabella and hears Gamlen whimpering at his back as he flees towards the galley his daughter has just come from.

Merrill feels an anger rise in her that she has never felt before and screams out, "No! No! No! Not today." As she cuts her wrists to let blood flow over her staff and directs her magic towards the group facing Aveline. The men at the front start writhing in pain Merrill's magic rending their blood from the inside, immobilising them and stopping those at the back from coming forward.

Carver has started swinging his sword at the Templars coming towards himself and Anders. Anders shield is holding, but Carver knows he won't be able to hold it much longer. Carver feels his spirits fall, they are not going to survive this, there are just too many of them and no mages to help out like they had the day before.

Fenris hears the noise before he turns the corner and pulls out his sword ready to deal with whatever is there. He stops short when he sees the large body of men and knows immediately there are just too many. Varania lets out a squeal of shock as she sees them, causing the Templars at the rear to turn and take notice of them. Fenris turns to those at his back, "Do what you can, Help them!"

Hamahakis nods slightly and pulls out his blades. Everyone about him can only stare as suddenly the webbing of tattoos on his body light up and shine, he leaps into the air and flies over the top of the Templars in front, jumping from head to head, blades flashing throughout to land beside Anders and Carver facing the oncoming wall of armour.

Hawke wakes at the sound of Varric's voice, she knows the tone, something is going on outside, but he hasn't shouted for her. Did she hear right? Did he shout Charade? This doesn't help the disorientation she feels at waking up in Isabella's cabin. She grabs her staff and runs out of the cabin, Isabella can do whatever she likes to her afterwards, she is going up and damn the consequences of being seen. Her friends need her help.

As she comes up on deck to stand at the rail time seems to slow and she looks out to assess what is happening. Merrill's debilitating spell is almost out, Hawke can see the three women facing that group of Templars have only moments before they will be overrun. Varric is picking off the strays that have got past the edges of Merrill's spell and are nearing Donnic. Donnic is swinging his sword holding back three who are trying to enter the cargo hold. Her eyes move up toward Anders, Carver and another man who is shining. She has no idea who he is, but he is helping them hold back the group coming towards them. Anders shield is shrinking as his mana is running down; they will be fighting furiously shortly. Her eyes move further back and there is Fenris, glowing brightly, sword swinging with a speed her eyes find hard to follow. Maker's breath, is that Varania behind him? She is chasing out fireball after fireball at the men coming towards them. She can just see Orana, hunkered down behind a crate, hands covering her ears. What is she doing here? And that's Bhodan holding her shoulders, a look of absolute terror on his face. Her eyes are finally drawn to Sandal.

Sandal is on his knees, his hands clasped in front of him, his eyes closed. A pale white glow is beginning to surround his hands. Her senses reach out and she can feel the magic that is building up. She knew that dwarf could do magic! She focuses on him and can feel the weave of the magic he is trying to create, she can feel that Sandal just does it; he is unaware of how to build up the wefts and weaves of spells that mages usually have to think about. He is crafting a massive spell; she can feel the energy required to make it and is humbled that this little dwarf has it in abundance. She becomes aware of what it is he is trying to do, but can see it will not be enough. Hawke closes her eyes and reaches out to wind her magic in his spell, supporting the weave, there is a momentary waver as Sandal recognises her joining of his spell, then a feeling of joy as he welcomes what she is doing. One moment more and then the spell is released. Hawke is thrown back and lands with a thump on the deck of the ship.

Hawke feels the air knocked out of her lungs as she lands and the flash of pain where her head has impacted with the wood. It is a moment before she sits up and another before the ringing in her ears begins to dim. She rubs her head and opens her eyes to see Varric staring at her open mouthed.

"By the Ancestors Hawke! I didn't think you could show me anything new. How in the Fade did you do that?"

He reaches out a hand to help her up. She wobbles as she stands before finding her balance again and rubs her head some more. "Did it work?"

Varric stands aside and spreads his hand to indicate the scene that lies before them, "I'll say it did. Look for yourself."

Hawke looks out over the quay, all has gone quiet. All her friends still have their weapons drawn, but lowered as they tentatively walk round the frozen figures of all the templars. All of them are perfectly still, not a blink of their eyes or a breath moves in their chests. Hawke can see that the wind isn't even ruffling hair. She looks round at Argo, "Could you put out the gangplank please?" He is still slack mouthed as he silently nods and moves to put it out.

As she walks down gingerly, her balance still not too good and working against the gentle rocking of the ship, she sees Fenris running towards her. He reaches her as she steps off and grabs her and holds her. Hawke sinks into him, thankful for his strength which makes her realise how weak she feels. The others gravitate towards the pair, glancing back at the knights to reassure themselves that they really are not moving.

As Sandal nears she breaks free from Fenris to stand before the dwarf who grins up at her.

"We do not enchantment."

"We most certainly do Sandal." She says and bows towards him with deep respect.

Isabella comes forward, "I am so sorry Hawke, this is my fault, and I forgot to keep Anders out of sight. They were after him, not you." Anders looks very shaky himself, only realising now how much of a wanted man he is.

Hawke looks around at the knights until she finds the face she is looking for.

"Are they dead? What did you do? How did you do it?" asks Anders, she can see he is concerned that even more death has come about because of him.

"No Anders, they are not dead. This was Sandal's spell; he has frozen time for them, each individual one. I could see he didn't have quite enough to get all of them, so I augmented his spell...gave him my magic so it would do what he wanted it to do."

"You did what?" but she has turned away from him.

She approaches the man whose face she has recognised.

"I would guess this is what is now Knight Commander Cullen." She looks at Sandal, "Do you think we could unfreeze him?"

Sandal smiles and reaches out and touches Cullen's hand, there is a small spark of light and the man suddenly moves forward, sword coming up, continuing the motion he was making when he was frozen. Hawke steps back, "Stop Cullen!" the man looks at her complete confusion on his face and looks round to take in the scene around him.

"What the?..How?..."

Hawke stands before him her arms folded giving him time to orientate himself.

"Hawke? What are you doing here? What have you done to my men? Where is that mage? He needs to pay for what he has done." His voice loses its quiver as he talks and Hawke can hear his confidence and anger returning. She stands silent until he stops his chattering and he is ready to listen.

"Your men are fine, just 'stopped' for a while. I need you to understand something. The decision about how to deal with Anders was left to me. I decided and he lives. This is something you need to accept. The people here need you to help them, not running around chasing your own blinkered viewpoints. You are Knight Commander now, you are responsible for these people, do your duty! My friends and I are leaving now, do not chase after us, you will be chasing after phantoms, a waste of your valuable time. These men need you focussed. You work for the Chantry; I suggest you start by finding out what is left of your employers. "

"I won't see you again, will I?"

"I very much doubt it, but be aware if you don't change, I _will_ find a way of letting you know I don't approve." Hawke replies.

Cullen smiles as his face softens, "Farewell then Hawke, but before you go, let me say...You have been the very best of Champions. Kirkwall will miss you."

Hawke laughs, "Thank you Cullen, but I will not be missing Kirkwall! Now if you will excuse us, my friends tell me my presence is required at a wedding."

They all walk back to the ship leaving Cullen to check on his men. The last of the crates are put on board and the ship moves out. His men don't feel time move for them until the ship is beyond the horizon.


	4. Chapter 4

"After Kirkwall" – 4

As soon as Hawke steps on the deck of the ship Merrill and Isabella grab her and put her back in the cabin, despite her protests,

"On come on! There are a lot of people out there I want to see! I don't need to stay hidden now do I? Please! I want some air!" She stands with her hands spread out in supplication,

"Calm down Hawke, you'll get to see them later," Isabella chides, "You need to get yourself ready, as do I."

"You? What do you need to get ready for?" genuinely puzzled at Isabella's tone,

"This is a wedding is it not?"

"So? A good wash and you'll be fine!"

Isabella steps forward, poking her finger into her chest, "And where do you think we are going to get a Revered Mother to do the ceremony? The nearest one is Kirkwall, but oh dear, she can't do it because she's DEAD!" Hawke blinks at her for a moment, thoughts turning in her head before a flickering of insight begins to take shape,

Hawke looks at Isabella incredulously, "You don't mean...? "

"Yes I do. As a ship's Captain, it is one of the perks of the job. In moments of crisis I can perform the dirty deed." She folds her arms thrusting her already ample chest out even more.

Hawke laughs out loud, "Oh Isabella, you are possibly the furthest thing you could get from a Revered Mother and a walking anathema to marriage."

"Hey! I was married once!"

"But you didn't marry him through choice and you hated him!"

Merrill watches the two of them intently as they continue their argument, Hawke struggling to contain her laughter and Isabella becoming more indignant at her response, before she timidly interjects, "You know, there is another way."

Both turn to look at her and Merrill blushes and dips her head, suddenly awkward at being under their scrutiny,

"As the First to the Marathari, I was trained in joining ceremonies..." she pauses, the red in her cheeks rising further, "I know the words and the order things need to be done in."

Hawke and Isabella look at each other and then back at Merrill,

"Did you ever do any?" Isabella asks.

Merrill blinks, "No, but I stood by and assisted Marathari often."

"Could you do it on your own?" asks Hawke.

"I...I think so."

Isabella turns back to Hawke, "It's a good idea, who would know if she got anything wrong?"

Merrill can't hide the look of hurt on her face, "I would know, but I won't get anything wrong!"

Hawke shrugs her shoulders, ignoring Merrill's outrage and continues to face Isabella, her arms folded,"Neither of us is particularly devoted to the Chantry."

"Neither of you are particularly devoted to anything apart from each other!"

"And you are such a good example of how to express devotion!" Hawke declares, the sarcasm clear to hear in her voice.

Isabella puts her hand to her heart, evoking mock hurt, "Oh how could you Hawke? I've stuck with you!"

"That's not quite the same as being prepared to stand in front of friends and family and declare undying love! I've only ever heard you grudgingly admit you like me." Hawke cocks her head to the side, "Not sure I want the rest of the stuff from you though, no offence Isabella."

"None taken and I'm sure Merrill would at least take it more seriously than me. I'm not sure I won't vomit halfway through when I think I will be responsible for trapping you into an institution I never want to see the backside of ever again!" Isabella points out.

"Ew, I don't think the sound of your retching would add the right air of sombreness to the proceedings." Hawke screws up her nose.

"Very true, and another thing, I don't have any clothes which don't show off my rack Hawke, not that I would wear them anyway; at least Merrill would look more like a Revered Mother."

Merrill looks at her in shock, "I look nothing like a Revered Mother! And I wouldn't want to; although I'm sure they are all very nice ladies."

"Great joining ceremony it will be with Fenris and me holding hands over the shelf of your tits! At least yours wouldn't get in the way Merrill. What about Fenris," Hawke frowns, "He might be an elf, but he's never shown any interest in his heritage and, sorry Merrill, he doesn't like that you dabble in blood magic."

Isabella shrugs, "I'll talk to him. Merrill's got to be better than me at doing this." She turns to glare narrow eyed at Merrill," You _are_ doing this, get ready." She scratches at her head as she turns to leave the cabin,"I can't believe I almost got caught in this, I hope you appreciate that I almost did Hawke." As she reaches the door, she turns back, "I'll get the boys to bring in the bath tub, could you do your finger twiddling thing to heat up the water?"

"We both can." Says Merrill clapping her hands, smiling at Hawke.

"Great! Don't undress before they come in. They might get confused and think it's 'alone time'!"

Hawke and Merrill both turn pale as she leaves the cabin.

Isabella makes her way towards Fenris who is standing at the rail watching the Kirkwall fade into the distance,

"Fenris, I need to ask you something." He turns towards Isabella, his face unreadable. She looks at him, suddenly feeling very awkward under his direct gaze. "I could do the officiating as ship's Captain and you can imagine how that would go," Isabella shudders before going on, "Merrill has the skills to ...officiate as a Keeper might. I strongly suggest you accept her offer." Blurting it out quickly.

Fenris frowns, obviously not happy with either choice, and continues to stare at her, unsure of how to respond. Varania moves towards him, laying a hand on his forearm. Hesitating a moment before speaking, "I couldn't help overhearing, but would it help if I told you our mother was Dalish?" Her words are said quietly as she looks up at her brother's face, unsure if she should have interrupted.

"I don't remember that." He states.

"Why would you, she didn't tell me until after we were free... I think she would have liked her son to do this."

"Would she like me to marry a human?"

Varania smiles, "Maybe not, but she never thought you would be free to do this anyway. For you to return to something she had been taken away from would make her very happy indeed."

Fenris looks out over the water, thinking for a moment of this new information, the first thing he has learnt about his mother. Merrill is not what he wants, but to be able to reconnect with a part of his past, to feel he can do something that his mother might think on him well if she were alive, makes him think having the witch do this might be a small price to pay, "Fine then. Do this."

Isabella heaves a sigh of relief, "Thank the sea gods, I swear never to wish their manhood's turn green and fall off...at least for the rest of today." and heads off to arrange the bath tub.

Varania looks up at Fenris, "Shouldn't we talk." Fenris looks back at her, the girl with the same green eyes as his own. He has brought her here because she was his sister, because he felt he should, but he is not sure if he is ready to fully forgive her for betraying him yet. That memory is still raw. He remembers that she helped him out earlier today. Maybe they could talk a little. He looks at his feet,

"Why did you stay in Kirkwall?"

Varania is silent for a few moments before answering, "When you killed Danarius, you killed my dream of becoming a Magister. When you sent me from the tavern I knew I could not return to Tevinter, no one would offer to train me again." The disappointment of having lost this dream she does not hide, "I knew Danarius only offered it because of you, not because I was much good. I had no option but to stay in Kirkwall. I had no coin to travel anywhere, so I went to the Alienage. At least there, I knew I could fit in. It was there that the chance came to work with the tailor came up. I had done it before and Jean Luc was impressed with my sample work. He was a good employer, he paid me well, treated me well, much better than anyone in Tevinter had ever done, so that even when I had enough to leave Kirkwall, I found I was content to stay and work for him."

Fenris nods, revealing nothing of his thoughts on what she has told him, "What about your magic? You should have joined the Circle here and trained with them."

Varania is silent again before answering. She knows if she says the wrong thing, this man could turn on her. Her brother was lost to her for so long, she does not want to risk scaring him away. This day has been a wonder to her, opening up her life to new possibilities she never thought would open for her. Her brother came looking for her, asking her to be here with him, offering her the opportunity to have family again. If she wants to achieve her new hopes she knows she will have to be careful. She has wronged him too much already.  
>"I thought about it. I wanted to find out more before I made any decision. I have learnt enough about what it means to be free not to want to cast it aside easily, but the thought of going into something where I would learn how to use my magic appealed even if it was like a prison. For a long time I thought it might be no worse that being a slave to Danarius. I would no longer have to work, worry about if I would be able to clothe or feed myself. No longer be responsible for my own life. Working for Jean Luc changed those thoughts. I learnt that I could feed and clothe myself. I learnt what freedom can mean, that it can be something wonderful and precious. In Tevinter I had no idea. I still had not decided when you came today. That is why I have not used any magic since coming to Kirkwall. I did not want the Templars to come and take me before I had made up my own mind."<p>

Fenris nods again. "Why did you say you thought I had got the better end of the bargain?"

"Because I thought you did. After you won the contest, Mother and I were thrown out of Denarius' estate that day. We had no home, no coin, no work, and no food. Denarius put us out with nothing apart from the papers to say we were free elves. To be free in Minrathous is to live a life devoid of the smallest comforts offered the lowliest slave. We slept in the streets for weeks before I managed to get work. Mother started getting unwell before that. I managed to rent a hovel for us to live in, but although Mother was no longer sleeping in dust and muck, her illness had progressed too far that she was unable to get better. I did not earn enough to pay a magister to heal her, so she got worse and then she died. I had too little magic of my own and no idea what to do with it. My employer was not good. I worked long hours for little money and he beat me and raped me often, to deny him would be to lose the job. I could get no other work, so I had to put up with it. By the time Hadriana tracked me down, I was very bitter. I blamed you for all that happened, I would have betrayed you simply for the offer of any other job. Still, the offer of training made it that much easier to agree to. That you sent the coin for me to travel to Kirkwall, told me you did not want for means. That you did not ask about our mother, told me you cared nothing for her. When I saw you in the tavern, I saw someone who had friends who were ready to help him out, you were clean and not starving and I was led to believe you were abusing the gift that Danarius had given you. At the tavern that appeared to be so. You fought and killed the man I thought had given you everything."

Vanaria finishes her tale and Fenris finds he is moved even though his sister has shown no emotion in its telling.

He turns his head to look at her face, "Do you still blame me?"

Varania gives a small smile, "No I do not. Living in Kirkwall gave me a new perspective. In amongst the bad, there are a lot of good people. I came to realise that a young boy had done what he did because he loved his family and thought he was giving them a great gift. It was not his fault he was not aware of the ways of the world and how much suffering that 'gift' would bring."

Fenris hangs his head, "I did not ask about my mother as Hadriana had only mentioned you. You mentioned she was Dalish. What more can you tell me?"

A frown passes over Varania's forehead, what can she say about her mother's lifetime of love in a few sentences. Her grief is still strong despite the many years she has been gone and her brother is telling her he doesn't remember anything of her. How can she give him back a mother he never knew? She reaches into her pocket and pulls out the small box she had brought with her from her home. Holding it in both her hands she looks at it reverently, tears filling her eyes at this where she could show no emotion before. Reluctantly she hands it to him, somehow irrationally afraid that handing it to him will make it disappear. Fenris looks at the box curiously before taking it from his sister's hands, watching her nod at him, unable to say the words to give him the permission he is looking for to open it. Inside are two lengths of braided baby hair, one white, and one auburn. He does not need Varania to tell him what these are. In the life of a slave, there are no possessions they can call their own. His mother had done what little she could to have something of her children with her always. How his mother had managed to keep these two braids hidden from the eyes of her keepers could never be known. He feels along the length of his own white hair, as he knows his mother must have done, thinking of how long it must have taken her to gather the tufts and weave them together.

Varania's voice wavers as she manages to speak at last, "She was clutching them in her hands when she died. It's all I have left of her. While I might have raged at what you did, know that not once did she ever say a word against you. Your mother loved you. What more do you need to know?" He closes the box and hands it back to her.

Fenris breathes heavily and looks out over the water, letting his thoughts of his mother wash over him, "I understand now. You were right; it has been good for us to talk. 'Leto' is long gone; I have only some of his memories. Those I have I think are due to the woman you will see me wed today. I am not the same brother you had long ago, but I am glad you no longer think badly of the one you have now."

Varania takes a deep breath, "I have something to ask you...Fenris. I have heard the tales of the Champion. I also heard the tales of those who were her friends. It was some time before I knew for sure that it was my brother among them. I did not believe most of these tales, but after today, I think more of them may be true. I would like to get to know my brother for myself and not through the tales of others. I would like to come with you wherever you are going, if you will have me."

"Are you aware of what you are asking?" says Fenris, "The plan for now is for us to become pirates! Are you sure you want that? You would be exchanging sewing fancy suits for sewing up nets and wounds and possibly some eye patches."

"Is that your plan?" Varania chuckles, "Well, it will be a very different life for me, I'm not sure how good a pirate I will be, but it does sound exciting. I should be honest with you though," her voice becomes more serious again,"It is not only the chance to get to know you again that I want. I would like to train with your lady. I no longer wish to be a magister, but I want to see what I could become. Her magic is different from any that I have seen, yet she does not use blood or demons. I would like to know more about it."

Fenris runs his fingers through his hair, "I will be honest too Varania, Hawke is the first and only mage I have come to trust. I would like that you could have that from me also. You should discuss this with her, but if she does not agree to this, do not make me choose, you will lose."

"That is fair brother. Now, can I ask you to introduce me to these others I only know from tales?"

Fenris nods and takes her by the arm to meet them.

Gamlen was found hiding behind Edwina, who was clutching a carving knife, when Varric went to check on her after returning to the ship.

"Oh Gamlen, you get more and more pathetic each time I see you man! Edwina, is this man bothering you?"

"He is now Varric, this place is small enough without him taking up space."

"Come on man! Get out of here, there are no more bogey men to get you. This might be a good time to give your box to your niece."

Gamlen stands up and follows Varric out of the galley trying desperately to recover some of his pride. There is some uncomfortable squishing at the narrow stairs when on their way up they meet Orana coming down.

"Master Varric," Orana says." Is this the right way to the kitchen? I met Mistress Merrill who asked if I can make cake and she sent me this way when I said I could."

"Yes Orana, this is the correct way to the 'kitchen'. Edwina is there already, I'm sure she will be happy to help."

As they reach the top Varric spies Merrill.

"Hey Daisy! Is now a good time for Gamlen here to speak to Hawke? He has something I think she's going to be very happy with."

Merrill's face lights up when she sees Varric, "Varric did you see? Orana is here, she is going to make cake! Isn't that amazing? What did you say? Hawke's uncle wants to see her? But he never... Oh Gamlen, I didn't see you there. Now would be a very good time, she's just about to have a good scrubbing. I'm hoping to get one myself, you should get one too. None of us have had a decent wash since yesterday, and we are all getting a little fragrant."

"Thank you for that Daisy, _now_ can Gamlen see Hawke?"

Gamlen calls for Charade and together they make their way down to Isabella's cabin with the box. Charade knocks on the door and walks through when they hear Hawke's voice. The cabin is large with windows looking out onto the open sea. Hawke sits beside a narrow metal tub with a finger dipped in the water, glowing a little as she uses her magic to heat the water.

"That's a really good trick." Says Charade.

"Maybe not one of my most flamboyant, but certainly very useful. Hello uncle, how have you been?"

"Much better since this girl came into my life." The usually grumpy man's voice mellows as he looks at his daughter, Hawke can see he is genuinely fond of her and smiles a small smile as he pats Charade's hand.

"And you Charade? I got your letter, I'm surprised you listened to all those silly stories, I hope you didn't believe any of them?"

Charade blushes,"You mean to tell me they are not true? How disappointing."

Hawke laughs back at her, "Varric puts about these stories for fun, I'm sorry, I should have written back to you before now."

"It would have helped; I got really embarrassed when I met Aveline."

"Oh Maker, I'd forgotten about that one." The two giggle at each other remembering the story.

"Enough you two," says Gamlen showing his more grumpy side again for a moment," We're not here to talk about your shenanigans." The girls exchange a look and Hawke mouths "Shenanigans?" Charade stifles a giggle as Gamlen brings forward the box.

"I was saving this for Charade, but she persuaded me I should bring it to you today. It's one of the few things I have left from the old days when the Amells were part of the nobility in Kirkwall. It's been in this box a long time. I hope you appreciate it."

He hands the box to Hawke. It opens to reveal layers and layers of expensive paper. Hawke puts her hands through the paper and feels the texture of lace and silk, she gasps as she lifts out the most beautiful dress she has ever seen, the sleeves are made of the finest lace and attached to the silk bodice, then flows into a full length skirt, all in cream. Silk ribbons tie the bodice at the rear.

"It was your grandmother's wedding dress." Explains Gamlen. "I'm not sure my mother would be happy to see you wear to marry an elf, she would want you to match up with a rich noble fellow. Have you restore the family name. Still, I suppose it's better than running off with a mage like your mother. I'm not sure she would be too pleased with you either."

Hawke sighs, remembering her mother commenting on her relationship with Fenris, worrying about her daughter, asking if she knew what she was doing, but her mother had never told her to leave him or forget about him. Mother understood. Her uncle would never understand.

"It's beautiful uncle. Thank you." Hawke pauses before going on, thinking of how her mother would have worn this dress had she not ran away with her father. How she wishes her mother could be here to see her wear it.

"I have a present for you too, uncle. I'll be leaving Kirkwall after the wedding. I don't think I'll be back. I want you to have the mansion in Hightown. I won't need it any more. I've asked Varric to sort out the papers. All I ask is that you don't sell it again to pay off your gambling debts."

"Well, thank you." Gamlen blusters,"I will look after it this time, I promise. Come on girl, time to go and let this young lady get ready."

They say their goodbyes and leave Hawke to enjoy her bath.

The ship becomes a flurry of activity. Carver drags Fenris away from his sister to direct him to a small cabin where the new suit has been hung up and there is a wooden bucket, filled with hot water and a bar of soap,

"Isabella says you've to clean up and I've to help you before I can get cleaned up myself. Something about us both being dirty bastards! She also said you should get used to this cabin; this is where you and my sister are bunking. Can't say that's a thought I want to dwell on." Fenris shakes his head and strips off to his underclothes to start splashing water and scrubbing soap over his face and body. Carver hands him a towel to dry off and Fenris catches him staring at him curiously, "It's the tattoos isn't it? You always wondered what they look like underneath the armour."

Carver shakes his head vigorously as he stands against the wall, his arms folded, "No! No it wasn't that, although they are...interesting. No, I was just wondering why you would want to do this with my sister. She's not exactly the type that will stay home and cook and clean for you is she?"

"Is that what you look for in a wife Carver?"

He shrugs his shoulders, "Well yes, that and the sex, that would be nice. But you'll walk in her shadow, just like I did for years. Why would you want that? Besides I thought you hated mages."

Fenris quietly answers while reaching for his suit, "You never walked in her shadow Carver, and you just had trouble seeing the sun for the clouds over your eyes. Something like myself I suppose. I realised I don't hate mages. I just hate what some mages do with the magic they have. Your sister has never asked me to walk in her shadow; she showed me how to get out of my own. Wanting to be with her is something I've wished to do for a long time. That she wants to be with me is the part I still have trouble with. Perhaps you should ask her these questions." He starts tying the laces of his shirt and looks at Carver who is gazing at a spot on the bunk, clearly letting what Fenris has said filter into the deeper parts of his brain where he actually thinks. Fenris leaves him for a while to ponder while he puts on his trousers,

"Isn't this the time you're supposed to tell me that if I ever harm your sister, there is nowhere on Thedas that you won't go to find me and beat the living daylights out of me?"

Carver comes out of his reverie to look at the tall elf in front of him, "Shit no! From what Isabella tells me you did that already. I suspect if you ever do anything like that again my sister is more than capable of kicking the crap out of you herself. Don't get me wrong elf, I love my sister, but I'm a Grey Warden now, I won't be around much to help her if she needs it. I suppose I'm glad that you'll be there for her. You are a good man Fenris. I think my mother and father would be happy she chose you."

Fenris looks at him raising his eyebrow questioningly.

"Hey! My parents eloped and ran around Ferelden for years avoiding Templars with three kids in tow. An escaped elven slave taking my sister off to be a pirate would be small potatoes to them! At least you're marrying her before the babies start coming. You are going to have them aren't you? Being a Grey Warden apparently puts a stop to continuing family lines." Carver states sadly, "On the plus side it means I don't need to worry about girls turning up looking for part of my pitiful pay, but it would be nice to have some nieces and nephews to spend it on."

Fenris coughs, wondering if there are no personal questions this boy will dare to ask, "I'll see what I can do." He finishes putting on his jacket, wondering what assistance Isabella thought Carver was supposed to give him. "Time to change the water, it's your turn now. I'll see what awkward questions I can think of to ask you."

Merrill flits about the deck arranging her flowers, commandeering Aveline and Donnic to help her. She sends out wisps of magic to the flowers, rejuvenating those that are beginning to wilt and by the time she is finished the deck looks more like a garden in the middle of the ocean.

Orana finishes her cake and is then swiftly directed to go and help Hawke finish getting ready.

Orana knocks on the door and enters to find Hawke wrapped in a sheet and looking bemused at the array of bottles, potions, make-up and hair accessories. Orana smiles and directs her to sit down; she will sort it all out. Orana brushes her hair, putting curls in and pinning it,

"Mistress, I have wanted to speak with you for some time now, but it has been difficult as you have been at your home so seldom."

"What is it Orana? " Hawke can feel herself relaxing under Orana's administrations to her hair.

"I was hoping to introduce you to Hamahakis; he is the man that has the similar markings to Master Fenris. He also used to be a slave to Master Danarius, but I knew him before I came to work for you. When Master Danarius died he also ran away, but he came to your house to look for me. He told me my Poppa was not dead."

Hawke turns round to face Orana, "Go on Orana, tell me the whole story."

Orana places the brush on her lap and keeping her head down continues her tale.

"Poppa and me had been sent to Mistress Hadriana, just before we came here, so I did not know what she did with the slaves sent to her. Hamahakis told me that Master Danarius had been very clear that she was not to kill them for the blood. Hamahakis says that Master Danarius was not willing to pay for extra slaves for Mistress Hadriana, so she was to be careful with the ones she had. She had been taught how to take as much blood as she could but they did not die. They were sent to a resting place where they could recover until they could be used again. Hamahakis said it was an easy mistake to think my Poppa had died, but that Poppa had been sent back to Master Danarius. I was happy to hear that my Poppa was not dead, but sad that I could not be with him. Hamahakis said that Master Lucarius would be Poppa's master now. I wanted to ask you if you could buy Poppa from him and bring Poppa to Kirkwall to work for you too."

Hawke takes hold of Orana's hands, "How did Hamahakis know to find you?"

"He said one of the slaves used for the blood saw you and Master Fenris when you came to the caves. He heard what you did for me and told Hamahakis when he got back. Hamahakis was a special slave to Master Danarius. Master Danarius had told him he could be bonded to any slave he chose. Hamahakis said he was going to choose me," Hawke notices the pink flush that rises in Orana's cheeks, before she sighs and continues the tale, "But then I was sent to Mistress Hadriana before he told Master Danarius. I hope you don't mind Mistress, I said Hamahakis could stay in your cellar until I could talk to you. Master Bhodan did not know until yesterday that he was there. When the big explosion happened, Hamahakis said he did not want to hide anymore and he would make sure me and Master Bhodan and Master Sandal would be all right. The lady who came with Master Fenris today said she knew Hamahakis too."

Hawke lowered her head; she was beginning to have quite a collection of Danarius' ex-slaves at her wedding. Her head came back up,

"Orana, I will not be going back to Kirkwall, but I will speak with Isabella. If you would like, you could come with us. I promise we will try to find your Poppa."

"Oh mistress! That would be wonderful!"

Aveline came through the door and stated with some disgust in her voice, "Isabella gave me an order, _me_ Hawke! Can you believe her? I didn't know she could be this bossy! This is another reason why I don't think you should go with her. I'm to tell you we are nearing the Wounded Coast again and you had better be ready by then!"

Hawke turns to Orana, "I suppose we better get a move on then!"

It is early evening when they reach the Wounded Coast. The crew roll up the sails and put down the anchor. The ship still, but for a gentle rocking.

Merrill stands in front of the ship's wheel, her eyes closed, and quietly muttering words in elven. Hawke and Fenris walk up the stairs on either side, Carver at the back of Fenris and Orana at Hawke's back. As each reaches the top of the stairs they see all of their friends, smiles on their faces, ready to see these two joined together at last. Even Anders smiles, a resigned look on his face, but willing to be a part of witnessing the joining and wishing them well.

It is only as they turn to come and stand in front of Merrill that they catch sight of each other.

Fenris catches his breath, he had always been captivated by her, but he has never seen her look as radiant as she does today. He can barely believe she is in front of him now, ready to join with him. He had thought to push her away, feeling himself unworthy of her, but she just kept coming back, patient with him, giving him the time to come to terms with his freedom. She has such unwavering faith in him, a part of him still feels unworthy, but he can never leave her again. That she wants to be with him is a wish he thought would never be granted, yet here she is, smiling back at him, letting him know with her eyes, there is nowhere else she wants to be.

When Hawke catches sight of him all the others disappear, he looks so different out of his armour. She could never call him just handsome, to her he was beautiful. The fascination she had for him right at the start had only increased over time. She loved this beautiful man with all her heart, for a long time she had thought her love was too much for him, that he would never look for her to be anything more than a friend. She had been ready to accept that if it was all he had to give, but when his heart unlocked and the door had opened, he had given her everything she had dreamed of. No doubts now that he would ever leave her.

He catches her hands and as Merrill begins, they look into each other's eyes and are lost. They hear little of what Merrill is saying. As they look at each other, they make their own promises.

I will love you always

You are mine

I am yours

Here is my heart

Here is home

Here is where I stay

Merrill coughs and nods her head at Fenris. It is moment before he understands what she wants him to do. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the box with the rings. He looks for a moment at Sandal who smiles and nods back at him, and then he takes the rings out of the box. He hands one to Hawke and then together they put them on each other's fingers. As the rings slip on their hands come together and for a moment Hawke would always swear that they became one ring. She feels a tingle in her hand and sees the small white glow of magic before it fades and their hands part.

Merrill says a few words in elven then coughs again and gives Fenris a hard stare while jerking her head to the side. He gets it quickly this time and pulls Hawke's head into his own and they kiss.

Loud cheers and clapping come from the audience and the celebrations begin as the sun sets over the sea.

Tables are brought up from below deck and Edwina directs everyone in helping to bring the food she has prepared up from the galley. Lanterns gently sway with the ship's motion and light up the scene as Hawke looks round at all her friends. She feels a moment of sadness when she thinks of the people who are not here today. Bethany would have enjoyed this so much, she still misses her sister mage. Sebastian, who she knows Fenris will miss also, she doubts he will ever forgive her for sparing Anders. And Mother, how she wishes her mother could be here, she would be so happy seeing her daughter married at last, but if Mother was here she would not be leaving Kirkwall. Hawke smiles for a moment as she thinks of how much Mother would also be shocked and berate her roundly for even thinking of running away with Isabella to become a pirate. No worse than running off to marry an apostate mage though. Her eyes catch Carver and she knows he is thinking of Mother too. He raises his glass to her in silent salute.

Once everyone has had their fill, the tables are cleared to Merrill's cries, "Don't take away the cake!" Orana pulls out her lute and begins to play.

Fenris takes Hawke's hand, "Come, speak with my sister, she has something she wants to ask you."

"What? No dancing?" She asks him, deliberately teasing him. He leans in to whisper in her ear,

"Only for you and when we are alone."

Varania is talking with Merrill as they near her, Merrill explaining Dalish customs to her between mouthfuls of cake.

"Fenris, you are such a fraud," Merrill states, "You give me such a hard time for wanting to find out more about our history and here your sister tells me your mother was Dalish!"

Fenris scowls back at her,"I didn't know, besides, you should be more careful about what you do with what you find out!"

"Your brother is so...prickly!" Merrill observes to Varania, "But you can see I was right about his 'puppy eyes'! I'll talk with you later if you want to know more." And skips off to find more cake.

Varania turns to Fenris laughing, "You are too harsh with her brother, she is delightful!" Fenris frowns, but decides not to argue over how 'delightful' Merrill is.

"It's good to meet you properly at last Hawke. Things were very different the last time. " Varania drops her eyes as she speaks, becoming serious as she faces the woman who stopped her brother from ending her life.

"And you," Hawke replies, "But troublesome brothers I doubt are the only thing we have in common. We should talk of that later when neither of them is about." Hawke glances at Fenris as he coughs, warning her not to take this teasing too far. She turns back to Varania, "Fenris tells me you want to ask me something."

"Yes." Varania bows her head, "I have seen a little of your magic, it is strange and different from what I have seen anywhere else. I have had no training, Danarius told me he would teach me nothing until my brother was returned to him, but I have seen much of what the Magisters do. Theirs is a powerful and dangerous magic, little of which they use to help anyone but themselves. The Circle mages in Kirkwall I have spoken with talk of their magic only in terms of bitterness and resentment as do the apostate mages I spoke to who managed to get to Minrathous. You are none of those things. I have been afraid to use my own talent, afraid my own bitterness would lead me down paths I could never return from. People in Kirkwall talked of a mage who helped them, helped them so much they made her their Champion. Today I saw why they did that. I would wish to learn from you."

Hawke looks at Fenris, who just looks at her and shrugs, leaving her to make the decision, letting her know that although this is his sister, he claims no obligation for her to grant her request. "I was never trained as the mages in the Circle were trained Varania. My father is the only one who taught me what he knew. I'm not sure how good a teacher I would be."

"You taught me to read. Your teaching skills are good." Fenris reminds her.

"That was different," Hawke laughs, "It wasn't just teaching that I had in mind with you!" Fenris flushes at Hawke's not so subtle innuendo thinking that she has more in common with her brother than he thought. Turning to Varania, her laugh disappears as she looks curiously at her. "You saw what happened with Sandal today?" Varania nods, "That was something different for me too. I would like to explore that more. You might not have trained with the Magisters, but you have watched them and your knowledge could be valuable. I would like to learn more of them. What would you say that instead of me teaching you, we study together and see what we both could learn?"

Varania finds she is unable to talk. In a few words this woman has treated her with more dignity and respect than she has received in her whole life. She knows herself as an ex-slave and an elf and this woman has swept those prejudices aside and asked her to be her equal. Varania feels tears racing to her eyes, tears she has not cried in a long time. She looks at her brother, understanding fully now why he loves this woman so much. The last traces of any bitterness she might feel towards him evaporate.

"I would like that very much."

"You do know that we're about to learn how to be pirates as well?" Hawke asks, instantly defusing the emotional situation.

"Yes Hawke, my brother has warned me." Varania manages to say, struggling to believe that her hopes have been surpassed with a few words and feeling overwhelmed by it.

They talk for a while longer before Hawke excuses them to go and speak with Hamahakis. Hamahakis sits with Orana, a protective arm at her back listening to her play. Hawke finds herself intrigued by this man who has followed a path similar to Fenris, but has come through it so differently. While she has promised to help Orana find her Poppa, she has not promised to help this man. His skills when helping out this afternoon were impressive, but she does not know him at all and is unsure if she wants him to come with them. He stands up and gives a small bow as they approach and Orana stops playing to introduce them.

"Mistress Hawke. Master Fenris. This is Hamahakis." Fenris winces at the use of the honorific.

"Hamahakis, Orana has told me a little about you. I would hear more about the man who has been hiding in my cellars for the last few months." Hawke looks at him as he stands to attention like one of Aveline's guards. He is small for a human, and although thin, she can see his muscles are well toned under the light leather armour he wears. The armour is made of the same spirit hide that Fenris wears, where do they get that stuff? Standing closer to him she can see the webbing of tattoos, they are like spider silk running all over his body even under the short black hair of his scalp. She feels herself becoming more and more disgusted with Danarius, how could he have done this to people? How many more 'experiments' has he carried out?

Hamahakis blanches as he stands in front of Hawke, "I...I did not mean to hide, Orana said you were a good mistress and did not think you would punish her for it. She said she had trouble getting your attention to tell you about me."

Fenris growls at him, "You could have hid somewhere else." Angry at the thought that someone had managed to hide in the mansion cellars of Hawke's estate for so long without anyone noticing, without _him_ noticing.

"Don't give him too hard a time Fenris," Hawke says, "He wouldn't have had to hide for so long, if I had gone home more. I spent any free time at your dusty mansion. The only times I went back were to have Sandal enchant stuff and get a proper bath. I barely even checked to make sure Orana was all right, she didn't get the chance to tell me about Hamahakis. Besides, can't you see he likes her? You must have some empathy for his situation. He kept Orana safe when I wasn't about to do it. Orana was right;_ you_ know I have a thing for helping out runaway slaves." She gives Fenris a sideways glance and he lets out a groan his hand rising to rub his forehead. Hawke turns back to Hamahakis,

"Did you have to compete, like Fenris, to get your tattoos?"

"No mistress, I was caught by Danarius after breaking into his estate in Antiva City. I thought he was going to kill me, but he claimed me as his slave and took me to Tevinter and did this."

"You broke into his estate?" Hawke ask incredulously.

"My friends dared me. We did not know a magister was staying in the place. I was an orphan and I ran with a gang of other orphan kids. We would steal to eat. I was best at it. We thought the estate was empty at the time, I never saw any of them again."

Fenris looks at Hamahakis with suspicion, "How did you get away when I killed Danarius at the tavern? "

"When I saw how it was going, I cloaked myself and left. I had been waiting for a chance to run away since he caught me. That was the best one that had come up. I saw you and your friends fight the Master. I've seen enough fights to know how that was going to go."

"You didn't lose your memories after he experimented on you"

Hamahakis gave a small grin, "No, but Danarius thought I had. He took great pleasure in telling me beforehand that I would forget everything. I just didn't let him know. I'd been a street orphan, I know how to survive."

"What did you plan to do once Orana had spoken with me?" Hawke asks finding herself warming to the small man.

Hamahakis' scrunches his face up, "I was going to ask if I could work for you too, just until I earned enough to pay you back for her Poppa. After that? No plans. I find it hard to think about plans after being with Danarius so long. I just planned to escape and find Orana. I've done that now. Orana says you'll take us both to find her Poppa. Can I plan to do that?"

Orana speaks up after having spent the entire interaction just watching the exchange,"Please Mistress Hawke, let him come."

Hawke looks at Fenris, "What do you think? He was good earlier today."

Fenris rolls his eyes and raises his hands in submission, "Fine, fine! Just...just stop calling me Master!"

Orana reaches to take hold of Hamahakis' hand.

Hawke looks at the two of them for a moment; she can see Orana smiling which she has never seen her do before. The sadness which always seemed to surround Orana like a thin cloak has gone.

"We'll have to speak to Isabella first."

"Thank you." They both say in unison.

However, before they can speak with Isabella, Hawke spots Bhodan and Sandal,

"Oh, I am going to miss you two so much. Thank you so much for today Sandal." She bends down and hugs him; Sandal just smiles and hugs her back.

"We will miss you too, Messere Hawke," says Bhodan, "I'm glad we got to see you before you left, and we will be leaving also."

"Are you still going to Orlais?"

"We think so, Messere. Messere? We brought your storage chest; I thought you might require it."

"Bhodan, you think of everything, Thank you. If you ever need my help, just let me know. You know how to get me Sandal, don't you?"

"Yes Hawke Lady." Sandal stares at her, adoration written all over his face.

"Before you go messere..." Bhodan reaches into his jerkin and pulls out a book, "I did not think you would want this left lying about for anyone to find."

Hawke gives a cry as she recognises her journal, "Bhodan, what am I going to do without you? Thank you so much."

"It has been an honour messere. My thoughts will be with you wherever you go."

Hawke passes her hand over the cover of the book. She remembers her father giving it to her long ago, telling her that writing would help her reflect on all her experiences, help her make sense of them to help her make the right decisions. He had said it would be her best friend, listen when no one else would and always understand without saying a word. It was almost full. Almost at the end. The last few days would have filled the last pages if she had been able to write in it.

They move towards Isabella who is issuing orders to the four crew men, "Once you've finished, open up the big barrel, help yourselves boys." She tells them.

Hawke quickly explains the story of Orana and Hamahakis, Fenris explains about Varania. Isabella listens intently.

"I didn't think you would want to go anywhere near Minrathous Fenris, but it's a good place to trade. It wouldn't be a problem to head there. Might be fun to explore a Magister's estate. Orana and Hamahakis look as if they are used to hard work. Orana would be good for ship's cook; I know her cooking is better than anything the rest of us could come up with. Hamahakis will be fine, enough muscle on that boy and I need more crew to get this beauty going. Are you sure your sister is up for this Fenris?"

"She's tougher than she looks Isabella. She and Hawke are going to work together on some magic tricks, which may be more useful than any amount of muscle."

"True. All right, they'll be welcome, but you have another one to think about. Your cousin cornered me with a multitude of questions before stating she wanted to come as well. I won't deny it Hawke, I could use her, she's pretty good with those blades of hers, although she says she's even better with a bow, and she's nimble enough to get up top, but I told her I'd run it past you first."

"Charade wants to come? Oh Maker! Gamlen will hate this... but if she wants to do this and you could use her, why not? You're the Captain, it's your ship, and you don't need to run these decisions by me first."

"Fine, I'll tell her. OK you two, time for you to go. Argo will take you ashore, there's a small cove the boys have got ready for you. Enjoy tonight and we'll pick you up in the morning when we drop everyone else off."

"Wait. There's something I have to do first." Hawke states before walking from them both to go to stand with Varric as he leans over the rail watching the water as it laps against the ship.

"Ah Hawke. He says, turning towards her, "I knew you wouldn't last with him that long, the pull of your irresistible dwarf calls you back to me. Don't worry, I will love you forever and provide you with dwarfy babies to look after and fill your time while I'm out in the world telling tales of my good lady back home."

"Dwarfy babies?"

"Sure Hawke, they'll have your looks and my brains...perfect." he grins up at her, "It's the chest hair, isn't it?"

Hawke shakes her head and laughs, "If it was the chest hair I would never have married an elf! Besides, I thought all dwarfy babies were born with beards, which would tickle too much."

"Hawke, would you stop putting these terrible images in my head, they ruin the tale!"

"Keep your tales Varric, make them as fanciful as you wish," She hands him her journal, "I thought about selling my memoires once, but you tell far better stories than me. Take this, no matter how crazy and fanciful they get, you will have my version of the truth. The ending isn't written, but you were there, you know how this tale ends."

"Are you sure about this? Isn't it just full of endless prose of your lust for the broody one?"

"There might be a little, but you can skip to the good parts. My story was always in your hands, this is fitting. Maybe I'll write to you about future instalments."

"I'd like that my friend." Varric looks over where Isabella and Fenris wait for her, "Looks like you better go. Have fun not getting tickled."

Argo rows them in the skiff and heads back as soon as he drops them off. The cove is secluded, enclosed on three sides by rock wall. No one will disturb them here. A fire is lit already and there is a large rug spread on the sand, blankets rolled up at the side. A wooden bucket sits with wine bottles in and the basket beside it has a note, 'for the morning' pinned on it.

They stand on the rug facing each other, Fenris brings his hand to the back of her neck, his fingers stroking the soft skin he finds there and pulls her face gently towards him to kiss her, long and slow, the fingers of his other hand tracing the contours of her face. Tongues explore tasting each other. Fenris' reaches round to start untying the bows at the back of the bodice of her dress as Hawke unties the laces on his trousers. She pulls out his shirt tails and runs her hands slowly up his body underneath the linen. She can feel the slight rises in his skin where his tattoos run and the hardness of his muscles as her hands move up his back. He can't help the small moan of pleasure that escapes him. He moves his hand to her shoulder and moves his fingers under the lace as he starts to remove the sleeves. Her skin is soft and smooth; he moves his lips to her neck and kisses from her ears down to her shoulder before nuzzling at her neck. She smells of summer flowers, fresh and sweet. Her hands move up to his shoulders and lifts his shirt over his head to take it off. Her lips move to his chest her tongue chasing the patterns of his tattoos. He loosens the silk ribbons at her back, the bodice loosens and the dress slips off falling on the rug...

Fenris lifts his head and smiles at her; kissing her once again before he lifts himself up and goes to unfold one of the blankets. Hawke sits up and he returns to seat himself at her back pulling the blanket round them both as they sit by the fire.

He nuzzles into her neck and she tilts her head back into his shoulder. They gaze at the flames in silence, each content that the other is there.

"Please tell me about the rings," Hawke holds out her hand to look at the ring on her finger, "I felt magic when we put them on. It reminded me of the feel of Sandal's magic this afternoon."

"Do you remember when we killed the dragon at the Bone Pit?"

"Maker, Yes! Tough old bugger that one!"

"Anders said he remembered the Hero of Ferelden talking about how she had armour made out of dragon scale for King Alistair. I took some scales from the dragon before we left. I wondered... if they could be used to make armour, could they be used to make something else? "

"Rings?"

"I had been thinking about rings for a while. The smith was amused at the idea, but he made them anyway. No one else has rings made from dragon scale. I wanted them to be something special. I had intended to see if Sandal could enchant them, but when I asked him today, he did something quite different. He called it 'not enchantment'; Varania said he was doing magic. He told me, "Once on, never take off. Bring good life, good health, good little ones." I can guess what that means, but it felt right. Like you, I felt something when we put them on."

Hawke places her ring hand on top of his ring hand bringing the rings together again. There is no glow as there was when they first put them on but as they come together, they can feel a slight resonance. Hawke reaches out with her new found magic sense and explores the weft and weave of the magic she can feel surrounding them.

"Fenris, these rings are very special," she says quietly once she open her eyes again, "Sandal has woven magic into them that is very complex, it is difficult to know what they do. How has a dwarf managed to do this? I don't sense anything bad, I don't think Sandal would intentionally weave magic into these that was, but they feel...perfect." Hawke stops for a moment and tries to take the ring off her finger and finds it won't budge, not even sliding up her finger a little, "You try." She directs Fenris who struggles also, but the ring won't come off. "Well that answers that. That 'never take off' he mentioned wasn't a warning." She looks at the rings her eyes narrowing, she knows there is more, but how can she test it? She catches sight of the small knife lying on top of the breakfast basket and reaches out for it. As she moves the blade to her finger, Fenris stops her, "What are you doing?"

"Testing the ring, watch." Fenris winces as he watches her cut her finger and the for a brief moment blood drips before stopping and they both watch as the skin knits together again and after a few seconds the wound is closed, not even the trace of a scar is left behind. "The ring did that. I haven't used any of my own healing skills for that one. Do you want to test it?" she says offering him the knife.

"No thank you, I'll just trust that the same thing would happen with my skin."

"Coward!" she teases,

"Reminds me too much of blood magic, cutting yourself deliberately."

"Well, at least now we know that they heal us. I would guess that becoming ill is not something we'll experience much of now. There is more, but I have no way to find out. I suppose we'll find out when we need to. You once asked what magic has touched that it doesn't spoil. I think you might have found it."

Fenris tightens his arms around her, "I think I've put it on the only other thing I've found."


	5. Chapter 5

"After Kirkwall" – 5

Hawke sits and watches the shore as Pawl rows the skiff back to the ship. She watches as the figures of her friends and family get smaller and smaller as they move further from the shore. The last goodbyes had been hard, knowing that some she may never see again. She can make out the figures of Carver and Anders as they split from the group, waving as they head off up the cliff road. She does not know where they are headed, Carver would only say that he would find Gray Wardens by feeling the call of the taint and it was not in Kirkwall. She can see the figure of Aveline as she halts to stare back one last time at them before following at the back of the walkers. The sound of Gamlen's continuing complaints at having to walk back to Kirkwall get fainter and fainter.

The skiff hits the side of the ship, and they climb up the rope ladder. Hawke looks once more at the shore once on the deck, but all the figures have gone. All the flowers which the day before had festooned the deck are gone. Hawke can see Charade already up the rigging, unfurling the sails with Argo's guidance. Hamahakis runs to help Pawl haul in the skiff and the other crew start pulling up anchor.

Isabella stands with her hands on her hips facing them as she turns, "I take it last night went well?" she leers at them. They look at each other, the corners of their mouths curling up at the shared memory. "Now it's time to see if I can make sailors of you."

The next few weeks are spent learning what it takes to keep a ship afloat and heading in the right direction. Days begin to flow into one another, the pattern of ship life taking shape. The armour and clothing they wore in Kirkwall is exchanged for loose shirts and britches. Weapons are put away in chests, apart from small daggers used mainly for cutting ropes and gutting fish instead of people. Skin darkens from being in the open air and the sun. Hair grows and is tied back with scarves or thongs. Muscles develop in places they didn't realise they had muscles. Hamahakis and Charade show a talent for quickly scampering up and down the rigging, hauling in and loosening the sheets of the sails. Hamahakis quickly claiming the crow's nest as his spot and starts sleeping 'in the sky'. Orana settles in her role as ship's cook and launderer, much to Argo's delight and Pawl's happy relinquishment of the job. Fenris finds blacksmithing tools and with Argo's help, starts hammering and banging, learning how to shape metal, making basic weapons and tools. Varania starts work on the sails, patching and repairing, the men start approaching her to mend their clothes and learns quickly how to repair the small collection of fishing nets on board.

Dalan and Garp are introduced as the other members of the crew, identical twins who work together saying barely a word, just knowing what the other is doing. Hawke is unsure what to make of them at first as they just stare at the newcomers to the ship with their dark eyes peeping out from masses of black hair. It is not until a few days have passed that they explain they are from Nevarra. Orphaned after dragons razed their village they made their way to Cumberland and became sailors. Isabella takes great delight in letting Hawke know they even share 'alone time' as she just can't bear to part them.

Hawke finds herself spending part of each day with Varania, each of them exchanging their knowledge of magic and spells. Hawke explains to Varania her interest in developing the magic she created with Sandal. How they were able to weave their magic together to produce a greater spell. Slowly Hawke and Varania learn to combine their magic together and Varania finds she can piggyback on Hawke's magic and learn to develop her own skill.

Fenris begins instructing Argo, Pawl, Dalan and Garp in swordsmanship, after the four become fascinated when watching him practise at dawn and ask him to teach them. Weapon training develops into a daily ritual for them all when Isabella insists that mages should be able to do more than wield a staff and Orana needs to use knives outside of a galley. She also insists that they all learn how to navigate and steer the ship as she can't do it all the time, warning them of how much help she'll need if they get caught in a storm. Hawke becomes fascinated with the maps, pouring over them, trying to imagine what all these places might be like. Isabella points her to old ship's logs, suggesting she read them and the entries that will describe places the ship has been. Isabella takes time to explain all the symbols and begins teaching her how to map out the course the ship should take. Argo takes time to explain the stars and how they can be used to steer the ship in cloudless nights.

Gradually they begin to work together as a cohesive group. Pulling together to pump out bilge water, swab decks, tie up ropes, fold the nets and make repairs. Isabella issues fewer and fewer orders as they all learn what needs to be done without being told. She might be loose with her favours, but she runs a tight ship. Evenings are spent sharing tales, playing cards, playing music and listening to the bawdy songs of Argo when he isn't whittling away at small pieces of wood.

Hawke finds that the further they sail from Kirkwall, the more her mind begins to ease. She is able to begin to put aside the feelings of having failed Kirkwall and the people in the city. The nightmares of the last day come less frequently. She finds herself reminded of her childhood in Ferelden, when her days were spent playing with other children and learning her craft from her father. She now plays with her shipmates and is learning with Varania. She feels the ship is cocooning her from the world the same way her father did on their farm. The daily tension she felt whilst in Kirkwall is fading fast. It is strange not to be fighting bandits and mercenary groups every day at first, but as time passes she grows comfortable with the rhythm of life on the ship. Days spent working leave her able to sleep easy when she and Fenris curl up together in their cabin at night. She looks forward to the nights when it is their turn to keep watch and alone for a while they can talk and enjoy each other's company.

Isabella heads first to Ostwick then Hercinia, Wycome, Bastion and Salle. Trading cargo, getting supplies and listening out for information. Isabella keeps the ship close to the coastline, never sailing too far out from sight of land, afraid that they may get caught in a storm, "We are not ready and there are too few of us on board to deal with that yet." She tells them. She refuses to let any but Pawl and Argo go ashore, the stories of events in Kirkwall having reached there and talk of the Champion is rife. Allowing them only to go dockside to load and unload cargo. It is not until they reach Rialto on the Antivan coast that she feels it is safe for them to step foot off the ship. While the stories have reached there, the descriptions given for Hawke are beginning to be elaborated and exaggerated, veering away from reality and safely away from leaving her under suspicion.

Rialto is a bustling dump of a town. The smell of rotting fish is almost overpowered by the stench of effluent. Whores are seen entering and exiting the many harbour side establishments with customers almost as ragged as they are. Bodies litter the outside having drunk themselves into unconsciousness, children dressed in tattered rags quickly searching their pockets before running as burly men with scimitars race to catch them. Fenris frowns as he indicates to Hawke the cages with human cargo ready to be shipped out. Antivans might state their dislike of trading in slaves, but do nothing to stop it. All along the docks men are loading and unloading crates of merchandise as ships flow in and out of the harbour.

Rialto is awash with rumours of infighting amongst the Crows as a result of the assassination of the Guild master. As they pass a particularly vocal group Isabella whispers in Hawke's ears, "You remember Zevran, my favourite assassin?"

"How could I forget? Fenris wanted to kill him for hitting on me!" Hawke giggles as she remembers the cheeky elf bursting with self confidence that had hidden in a cave in Sundermount telling everybody where to find him.

"Oh! You should have taken advantage there! Fenris or not, that is an experience worth having, believe me." Isabella gives her a knowing look, "Well, he's the one responsible for all this...debate."

Hawke thinks for a moment, "I do remember him boasting of Crows he had killed. I take it this was one of them."

"It's good for us; no one here is interested in what's been happening in Kirkwall. It could be a million miles away. Come on, let's get trading and get out of here."

Hawke looks back at her, "Already, but we just got here?"

"That's how you stay alive in this business, never stay too long. I should never have stayed in Kirkwall for so long, look at the trouble you got me into there!"

"_I_ got you into?" Hawke stares at her coldly, "I remember you being the cause of a lot of that trouble!"

Isabella laughs at her, "Don't worry I don't hold any grudge, you helped me get a ship again!"

Isabella leaves them to wander round the stalls and explore as she spies a merchant she recognises. As they look at the wares, refusing to succumb to the blatant sales pitches, Hawke turns as she hears a commotion further up the dock. A small boy has managed to wriggle through the bars of the cage holding other thin ragged children and is being chased by one of the guards. As the guard passes Fenris turns suddenly butting his shoulder to the guard causing him to lose his balance and sprawl on his face on the cobbles, his curved sword flying out of his hand and skittering under the cloth of a stand. Hawke sees the lightning quick reflexes of the stallholder sweeping it up and transferring it to his assistant at the back who swiftly runs off with it. The guard picks himself up, cursing and swearing, turning on Fenris, "What do you think you are doing? You stupid bastard. You have no idea what it took to catch that little runt the first time." Hawke moves quickly to stand between the two men as she sees the beginnings of light rise in Fenris' tattoos and his hand move towards his sword,

"Apologies ser, it was merely carelessness, my friend here is deaf and did not hear you approach, he was just turning to study the fine wares on the stand across the street. He will be chagrined to learn of his part in causing you to lose your quarry, what can I do to make up for this wrong done to you?" She gives him what she hopes is the best match to Isabella's sultry seduction look and pushing forth her chest even though she knows it is no match for the enticement of Isabella's. She can feel Fenris' eyes burning into her back, not ready to let go of his rising anger at the slaver guard and shocked that she would intervene to stop him. The guard shifts his gaze to Hawke, confused that someone should back down and admit fault so readily in a town where fights begin with far, far less provocation. Sensing he might be able to regain some of his pride in having been given a public apology,

"Deaf you say?"

"As the proverbial doorknob. Can't hear a damned thing, has been like this since he was born."

"Well that might explain it." He walks in close to Fenris' and bellows into his ear, "Stupid knife-ears, I should put you in that cage with the rest of them, but the buyer only wants kids." Fenris manages to turn to the man's face and blink at him, saying nothing.

"Ach!" the man utters, raising his hand in the air waving them both away from him, "It's no matter, there are plenty more of these little shits running around the streets, I'll get me another." Turning to view the stallholders and customers around them, "Which one of you bastards took my sword?" he squares up to a few of them before grunting in disgust and returning to the cage of children.

Hawke turns to the stallholder who is grinning at the retreating guard, "What buyer is he talking about?"

"No idea love, they've been gathering street kids for days. The locals don't like it, but with the Crows in disarray they've been getting away with it."

Hawke grins at the man as she recognises the accent, "Ferelden, aren't you?"

The man grins back, "Sure I am! Been here since the blight, couldn't get in anywhere until we reached this pisshole of a place. Can't complain too much though, don't have to deal with them demon mages like they do further south, glad I came this far after all."

A small frown crosses Hawke's brow as she remembers what she left behind, before she asks, "Do the Crows stop people being sold?"

"Not so much, but they won't like the kids disappearing. Usually they keep them for themselves. Not much fun for the kids wherever they go, but it keeps the thieving down."

Hawke thanks the man as Fenris takes her arm to steer her back in the direction of the ship and growls in her ear, "Why did you stop me? The man is a slaver, he deserves to die. Gathering up children to sell them, he was disgusting."

"Look at us Fenris! The last time we fought anything we were geared up in armour, enchanted to our back teeth with Sandal's runes. What are we wearing now? Thin shirts and torn trousers, besides it's the full light of day in a strange place and the sword you've got is only the first thing you picked out of the ship's weapon barrel!" She sighs as she stops walking and turns to take his face in her hands.

"I love that you did something when everyone else around was ignoring the awfulness of what is happening. I wanted to whoop in triumph for that little guy as he got away. I hate slavers as much as you do, but this time there is little we can do. People here don't care. That boy will probably be captured again and just placed in another cage. His misery merely postponed for another day. We can return here tonight and kill the guards and free the other children, if you want, but while a buyer is out there looking for children, others will only come to take their place."

Fenris looks back at her, acknowledging her point but unwilling to let it go, "So we do nothing? Just let this barbarism continue?"

Hawke narrows her eyes, "I thought you knew me better than that. Think Fenris, where in Thedas would someone feel free to spread the word that they want to buy child slaves?"

"Tevinter, nowhere else."

"Where are we heading?"

"Tevinter." He gives a wry grin as he begins to see where her thoughts are going, "If you can stop the demand there is no need to supply."

"Let's see if Isabella has heard anything. Maybe we can find out more about this buyer before we get there and be ready to do something that will make a difference."

Fenris nods, "One thing though, it might only mean one less day of misery for them, but I do want to go back and get them out that cage."

Hawke laughs out loud, "I guess we could use the practice. It's been a while. Time for you to break out the shiny again?"

"I do not 'shine'."

"Yes, you do and I've missed it."

Isabella knows nothing more about the buyer than they found out themselves, merely confirming the disarray among the Crows has left a window for slavers to collect children to sell.

"They will be pissed when they sort themselves out again. The slavers are not free from trouble though. There is talk of the whores doing something about the slavers." Isabella gives a laugh.

"Whores? Why are they annoyed and what could they do?" Hawke asks puzzled.

"Oh Hawke, you need to learn more of how Antiva works. Whores have children from time to time, nature of the business I suppose. In Antiva the Crows will pay for those children and train them up. It's not an easy option, but the whores feel they are giving their kids the chance of going into a better profession and there is the chance that they will see their children again. If slavers catch them, any chance of something better is gone and they don't get any coin for their produce."

"That's a terrible thing to do with your children!" Hawke protests.

"It's not as bad as slavery. As far as the whores are concerned, it's providing an education and a job for life. Best they can do for their kids. It's not clear what they are planning to do; all I can think of is that they fuck them to death. They'll probably refuse them any business, but all that leads to is rape; work with no pay to a hooker, not much use. I would make sure they have only the pox ridden whores to play with. Victory through VD! "Isabella laughs uproariously. Hawke shakes her head and puts to Isabella the idea of returning to free the children they had seen earlier.

"Ooh! Good idea. It's about time we did some piratey things. Let's go help the hookers!"

"Hold it! We need to get ready before we go; I'm not going in unless I'm dressed appropriately this time. Shirt and britches just won't do the job. Let me get properly prepared, I've forgotten all the stuff I stored in that box. Thank the Maker Bhodan brought it to the ship."

It feels strange to put on the leathers she wore as Champion again, finding it hard to shake off the memories of the last time she wore them, but she also feels much safer. She turns as Fenris gasps behind her. He had been looking through the chest and pulls out a sword, "I thought you had sold this."

He swings the sword in his hand, feeling the balance and checking the edge, "This is the sword I had when I came to Kirkwall, 'Lethandralis' Danarius called it. He had it made especially for me. I hope he regretted that."

"I sold a lot of stuff that we found, but not that. It was your sword, not my place to sell it. Use it if you want."

Fenris looks at her, "There's a lot of stuff in here, and are you sure sold anything?"

Hawke laughs, "I sold loads, we looted a lot, and I couldn't keep hold of everything. There were some things I just couldn't bear to part with. Aveline always accused me of selling Wesley's shield, but there it is. I always meant to give it back to her, but when she married Donnic, I didn't think it would help her to be reminded of her first husband."

"It's not just sentiment; you have enough in here to supply a small army! Look, let me give those guys out there some of these things, they've been practicing hard with the ship supply of weapons Isabella has, using some of these things would really boost their confidence."

"Of course, they are not doing anything useful lying at the bottom of this chest. What about the sword, do you want to use it?"

"No, I think this one can stay in the box. A reminder of where I've come from. I'm glad you didn't sell it. I'll use the one you found for me; you have a good eye for blades."

Hawke eyes him back in his spirit hide once more, "You want some help getting out of that when we get back?"

Fenris grins at her as he pulls her into his arms, "Only if I can help you out of yours."

The whole operation proves more difficult than they thought. The cages on the dock lie empty, the slaves having been taken onto the ships already. The harbour side is unusually deserted. They wander up and down the docks; there are two ships where the keening and moans of voices are heard, the children identifiable by the higher pitched sounds they make. They spread out around the ship with the children on board.

Hawke looks at Varania, "Ready? Let's see if this works." The two hold out their hands, as the others watch, small wisps of pale white light reach out and begin to flow around each other before coming together and snaking their way to the deck of the ship. As the light reaches the rail it begins to fan out reaching to cover the whole surface of the ship. A couple of thuds are heard as the slavers on board succumb to their spell and fall unconscious to the deck. As soon as the noise is heard, Hamahakis nimbly climbs hand over hand one of the ropes that secures the ship to the dock and puts out the gangplank to let the others board the ship.

The noise attracts the slavers below deck, not caught by the sleep spell. Charade knocks one down with an arrow from the dock as he emerges from a forecastle hatch before the rest are halfway up. Hamahakis' blade flashes briefly in the dark as he deals with the man coming up the aft hatch. Fenris moves to catch the body emerging from the mid hatch. Hawke moves to Isabella,

"Do we really need to kill them? I thought that was why we were using the sleep spell?"

Isabella does not retort with her usual snarky comment, "You need to see what's below. There is no mercy for slavers."

Hawke watches as Fenris grabs the dead man from the hatch and throws him out on the deck, making way to deal with the man at his back. Hamahakis is seen kicking his first target back down the hatch, forcing the men at his back down before diving down himself. Charade exchanges her bow for blades and races for the third hatch as Hawke and Varania fire ice spells at the bodies emerging from there. Isabella casually walks round cutting the throats of the slavers caught with the initial sleep spell.

There are only a few more slavers below deck, dispatched with deadly efficiency, before Hamahakis' head pops up and declares it all clear. Hawke watches as Isabella cuts the throat of the last sleeping man on deck before going down. She finds it disturbing watching her friend murder with such casual indifference, used only to killing in response to attacks to defend herself; she wonders how bad it can be below.

The stench hits her first. If she thought the smells of Rialto were bad, they were as nothing to the concentration as she neared the cargo holds on this slave ship. She feels herself beginning to retch and hears Varania vomit at her back, unable to control her body's reaction. Hawke can do nothing but lift her hand to her nose in an attempt to cut off the smell, but she can feel the heavy, warm, damp air reach down in her lungs, the ammonia from days old urine burns at her throat and she wishes she did not have to breathe. Fenris walks towards her holding a lantern, he can clearly see the distress she is under and puts his arm around her, "You'll be all right, but you need to see this. This is why we came back for them."

They open the hatch to the hold, and Hawke can't help but turn her head away as a wave of air comes past her, burning her eyes, forcing her to look away before her watering eyes clear and the wave passes and she can look down. Fenris holds the lantern over the pitch black square, the light revealing small dirty hands reaching up to shade eyes from the pale light. How long have they been down there that this small amount of light can hurt their eyes so much? Fenris turns to Varania, "Be ready to guide them up." She gives him a small nod as she moves to a spot where she can direct the children up to the deck, her eyes red with tears streaming down her face. Hawke know her own eyes must be the same.

Fenris grabs the ladder and puts it down, "Come up one at a time, no one needs to get hurt anymore." It is a few moments before any hands are seen reaching to the ladder, but slowly the small bodies start to emerge from the gloom. Large sunken eyes stare at him, afraid at first that he is just another adult ready to mistreat them. Fenris places a reassuring hand at their back as they climb off the ladder and directs them towards Varania. Hawke can only stare at the rake thin little forms, most dressed only in underpants, many wearing nothing at all, covered in the filth they have come from, blood and pus from sores dripping down their skin. Human children, elven children and even a couple of dwarven children all start to climb. Hawke reaches for her mana, ready to send out healing magic to them. Fenris sees what she is about to do, "Not yet Hawke, save it, the ones who will need it will come up last. You won't have enough to help them all." The trail of children climbing up the ladder continues, their eyes huge and sunken, staring in wonder at the elves and humans leading them out of their horror. Fenris nods at her to start giving out small bursts of healing magic as children come up whose sores are larger and weeping profusely, large whip cuts on their legs and backs, some with broken arms and fingers bent at unnatural angles, struggling to climb out of the hole.

As the last child to come up the ladder is lead to Varania, Fenris looks toward s Hawke. "Time to go down and get the ones who can't climb. Can you do this?" He sees only the barest of nods from her in response before he climbs down, Hawke following after. They walk slowly to the recesses of the hold and see small bodies scattered at the edges. One small elven boy stares at Hawke as he sits, unable to stand, sores cover almost all of his body and one arm hangs limp at his side. His lips are so swollen and broken she cannot make out what he is trying to say as he mumbles at her, she sends magic towards him and sees his eyes close in relief as the pain lifts. Fenris asks for her help with three others who manage to stand and start climbing the ladder. He shakes his head as she moves to three more, she can do nothing for them now. He lifts up a human girl who has fallen asleep from her healing, "Can you help the boy; I don't think he can climb." Hawke gives him a nod and turns to see the boy has laid himself down. The boy has little weight to him and Hawke lifts him easily, carefully trying not to rip his skin or cause him further pain. She can't stop herself from sending a steady flow of healing around him as his head sinks into her shoulder and she can feel the water from his tears dampen the skin at her neck.

Hamahakis approaches as Hawke climbs near the top of the ladder, helping her step off the last rung. "The ones you must have seen today were further up, they are all out. This is the last."

"Not quite Hamahakis, there are three more who will have to be carried out. We cannot leave them down there." Hawke manages to say to him through her tears. He nods and climbs back down. She walks behind Fenris, both of them still carrying the boy and the girl and make their way onto the deck, Varania following as Hawke passes. Once on deck, Isabella walks towards her, looking back at the dockside. "They started coming once you went below, I couldn't stop them. I don't think you're in danger, but be careful." Hawke looks out at the dock as she walks down the gangplank to see what can only be the whores of Rialto, the children from the slave ship in their arms or standing clutching at tattered skirts. All of them watching as she descends. One runs towards Fenris as she recognises it is her daughter he is carrying and gratefully takes her gently from him. There is no woman to run for the boy in Hawke's arms.

One elf woman with no children around her breaks from the group and walks slowly towards Isabella as she steps onto the dock behind Hawke. This woman is older than the others and walks with a quiet dignity she has not seen in any of them. Her clothing is of a slightly better quality than the others, less ragged and with fewer patches.

"You are the Rivaini are you not?" She asks Isabella, her Antivan accent a quiet whispering rasp. Isabella puts her hands on her hips, looking at the woman from the top down before answering,

"It's been a while Gianna, but I did not think I had changed that much that you would be unsure of recognising me. Unlike you, there are many more grey hairs on your head since we last met, but I'd know that voice anywhere. Do you want to duel me now or shall we leave that until later?"

The woman gives a throaty gurgle that Hawke thinks can only be this woman's version of laughter, before slapping Isabella on the shoulder, "Even in my prime Isabella, I could not dream of besting you. I've never been that stupid. The man was a dolt, took me a while to realise that though. What have you done with him?"

Isabella hangs her head, breaking eye contact with the woman, "Lost in a storm a few years ago, with many others."

Gianna shakes her head, "Stupid bastard. Yet here you are, and poking your nose into the troubles of others. You have changed, not like you to do good deeds or have your tastes changed to the more juvenile? Planning to steal this lot to replace dead crewmen or are you trading in flesh yourself now?"

Isabella glares at the woman, "A low blow Gianna, you know tastes of that nature do not change. What are your lot doing out here anyway? Not like you to have them standing up when there is coin to be made from them on their backs."

The throaty gurgle is heard again, "Hard to make coin when all they can think about is the brats that would be shipped out tomorrow. The Crows are too busy flapping about each other to care what happens to their future workforce. One night of no coin to put it right seemed a small price to pay, but, just as we are about to solve the problem ourselves, in runs Riva, telling me that someone else has started this night's work for us. I come out to find you standing here. What do you say Isabella? Did you come to take them away with you, or will you help finish the work you have started?"

Isabella turns to Hawke, "Sounds like the whores have been unable to fuck anyone to death, and Gianna has those discovering new skills. What do you say? A little finger twitching to help them out?"

Hawke looks at Gianna, "What would you want us to do?" She feels the woman's eyes look her up and down, trying to figure out why Isabella might defer to her.

"I want my workers to fight, I want the Crows to think twice before they use and abuse them." She nods her head in the direction of the other slave ship further up the docks. "Those bastards have picked up some of my employees to meet their quota, I want them back, but I want my lot to do it. A little support to make sure I don't lose any more would be welcome."

Hawke nods and Gianna shouts for Riva to take the boy from her arms. The whores start ushering children into the tavern behind them, seeing them safely inside before returning to gather around Gianna. Hawke beckons Varania towards her. "Have you enough left to do the sleep thing again?" Varania looks exhausted, although her healing skills are not what Hawke's are she has done what she can for the children. "A little, if we need more, we could use the blood from the dead ones." Hawke shakes her head, "No, let's agree that blood magic is out. If we need more, we find it in ourselves." Varania nods and walks beside Hawke as they make their way to the other slave ship.

As the now large group of whores nears the ship they scuttle to hide behind the crates and carts on the dock, pulling out rusty daggers and knives, ready to board when Gianna gives them the signal. The gangplank is down on this ship, two guards standing at the bottom on the dock. Isabella comes to crouch beside Hawke and Varania, "See if you can send the buggers below deck to sleep as well this time, I don't have that much faith in their ability to get the pointy ends in the right places if those bastards are moving."

Hawke takes one of Varania's hands; they have found it easier to blend their magic if they have contact. Fenris watches as the spell builds up once more, feeling what is now a familiar tingling from the ring on his hand. He always knows now when she is using magic, but then an unfamiliar ringing starts in his ears, his tattoos start glowing against his will and he feels himself weaken for a moment before the spell is let loose and the ringing and glowing stops. The two guards on the dock drop to the ground and Gianna signals the whores to board.

Charade, Isabella, Hamahakis and Fenris move towards the two mages who have dropped to their knees on the cobbles. "What's wrong?", "Are you all right?", "What happened?" The two are breathing heavily, but as they catch their breath and open their eyes, they smile at each other before both of them look to Fenris grinning.

Hawke grabs his hand to get back on her feet again, "Did you feel it?"

He scowls at her, "I felt something, and not sure I liked it. What did you do to me?"

Varania looks at her brother, "We didn't have enough mana to do what Isabella asked, but then I felt...you! It was as if you filled us up. It was wonderful!"

Hawke looks at the ring on her finger, "I'm sorry Fenris, the ring started vibrating when the mana got so low. I just knew if I somehow...pulled, it would help."

"The lyrium... it lit up." He looks at his wife and his sister, not quite sure of this new development. "If you are going to do it again, let me know first. It leaves a nasty taste in my mouth."

Both of them hug him, making him flush with embarrassment at a public show of affection, yet he does not push them away as he feels his place in the world fix more firmly.

"Enough with the family thing!" Isabella barks at them, "I thought we were here to help the hookers! Come on; let's make sure they haven't hurt each other instead of the knuckleheads." She moves towards the gangplank, making her way onto the ship, both blades at the ready. Charade and Hamahakis hot on her heels. Fenris turns to Hawke before following them, "You better hope there's no one else to fight, and I can't even lift the damned sword properly!"

"You'll be fine by the time you get up there, don't be such a baby!" There is a small flicker of light from his tattoos at his flash of anger,

"See?" says Hawke. He turns away from them, Varania wincing at the Tevinter curses he's mumbling as he goes.

It is some time before Hawke sees heads appearing at the rail of the ship. She hears the sounds of the victors congratulating each other and others giving reassurance as the freed captives are helped to get off the ship. Isabella walks towards her and Varania, "You two did well. Those women had great fun cutting throats without anyone to stop them. Gianna wants to talk; she says she'll meet us back at the ship once she's settled her own people.

Orana gives a small shriek when they all return to the ship. Insisting they all remove their clothing before they step any further on board. She wails at seeing the blood spatter and other body fluids, directing Pawl to get the wash tub ready immediately. Hawke wonders at what point she exchanged the timid little elf in Kirkwall for this harridan who ignores their pleas to keep themselves decent and shouts them into submission so she can keep the ship clean. Pawl, Argo, Dalan and Garp watch them all stripping off, laughing at their perceived indignity and casting appreciative glances at the bodies being exposed, before Isabella snaps orders at them and they scuttle off to carry them out.

Back in their cabin at last, Fenris wipes the blood from his blade before placing it back in the chest. Hawke heats the water in the bucket before ducking her head in to wash the blood and dried pus from her hair and face.

"Let me do it." Fenris says as he takes the towel to dry her face before pulling her in towards him and kissing her, "Thank you." She looks at him quizzically before asking, "What for?"

"For going back. We could have left them. You are right, what future do they have anyway? It could all happen again for them tomorrow or the next day. What difference have we made for them? But I'm glad we made a difference for today."

Hawke sighs, "It is me who should be thanking you. I had no idea how bad things were on those ships. "The tears start in her eyes as she remembers the children emerging from the hold. "How can they do that to people? Children? Don't ever ask me to go back again, just point me in the direction of a slave ship and I'll do it all again, day after day after day. We are going to find that buyer and as many others as we can and shut them down. I don't want to hear any more gripes of mages shut in towers, they've never known conditions like that. Why is an army of Templars created to watch over stupid mages? They should be sent to stop people doing what we saw tonight. Those slavers were not abominations yet they do worse things than most abominations ever do. They don't even have the excuse of being demon possessed for doing that. They make Darkspawn look good. How did you know it would be so awful?"

Fenris wipes away a tear with his thumb, "Danarius often took me with him to the docks to view slaves on ships. He never liked going to the market, liked to purchase goods at source. He never shirked at the smell, just placed a scented cloth to his nose."

"I'll just add it to the list of reasons why I'm glad I helped you kill him. What do they hope to gain? Most of those children would be dead by the time they got back to Tevinter."

"Even the dead ones can bring them coin. Magisters don't always need live victims for what they do."

"Necromancy? Oh, that's disgusting. No peace for a slave even when they are dead?"

"Quiet, my love, you have done all you can today. More than most. Let's finish getting cleaned up and go see what Gianna has to say."

"What about what happened with the rings? Are you angry about that?"

"Why should I be angry? You need my strength, the ring gives it to you, and everything I am is yours. I give it to you willingly. It's an interesting development."

Hawke looks at the ring, "I wonder if it works the other way? Hold on, I've recovered enough now." She closes her eyes, remembering the feeling of pulling and tries pushing instead. Fenris jerks and his eyes open wide,

"Maker Hawke! What have you done? That feels amazing! All my energy is back! Mercy woman, how much of a god do you want me to feel?"

Hawke laughs at him, "I'll show you later. Good to know something else these rings do. This one could be fun."

"Later can wait, show me now." He pushes her back on the bed and she squeals in delight as for a while they forget about the horrors of before.

Isabella and Gianna grin at each other as the noises from the cabin filter through the walls.

"I take it those two came as a package?" Gianna asks

"You could say that. Can you believe they are married?"

"I think I could believe a lot of what you might say of them. News does reach here you know and I'm good at analysing it. The elf is very distinctive, the descriptions of him don't vary much and an apostate mage it is said. I also remember hearing something about a Rivaini woman being involved."

Isabella pours Gianna a cup of wine, "No need to place too much in all you hear Gianna. It might be better if you could forget about it for a while."

"Not all of it can be easily pushed to the back of my memory, dear. War between the mages and templars is coming, I hear. That you were involved in starting the fire could be worth much, don't you think?" Gianna sips at her wine ready now to open negotiations.

Isabella has walked this tightrope before and is well aware of what Gianna could do. "I have heard you were once a high flyer with the Crows is that not worth anything?"

Gianna laughs, "Maybe not as much, but it is good that we know what we know about each other, is it not?" she sips at her wine some more. "Your people helped my people a lot this evening. Helped when no one else would. I would not be in your debt Isabella. I think we are in a position to help each other out a lot more."

Isabella sits across from Gianna her forefinger running round the rim of her cup, "So you hold no grudges from what happened before?"

"Phah! Like I said, the man was a dolt. Maybe more than I even knew if going off with you was what got him killed. He was a sailor, he would have left me at some point, and you just made it happen sooner. I just enjoyed making you feel uncomfortable earlier, gave me time to decide what your people were up to."

Isabella gives her a wide grin, "In that case, you old Crow, let's talk."

Gianna laughs, "You've noticed how I'm getting on in years. As you may know, the Crows do not provide a good retirement package. Crows who survive just get fewer contracts. Being in charge of a bunch of working girls and boys, does not bring in as much as you think, certainly not in this dung heap of a town. I wish to make a career change, one that is more lucrative. I would like that you and I become business partners."

"I take it, it is not the sex business, and I am far too generous with my skills to make that a well paying prospect for you."

"Absolutely Isabella, you would make the most awful whore, you never charge and you enjoy it far too much. I am talking about other merchandise and trade."

"Go ahead Gianna, I'm listening."

Gianna leans forward, her enthusiasm for what she is about to propose easy to see, " There are now two ships in the harbour with no one on board and for the moment no one to claim them. I propose to clean them up and change their owners...to us. When wars come, there is opportunity for trade. I would propose that we are the ones that grab those opportunities."

"Why do you need me? Why not claim those ships for yourself and start your business on your own?"

"Because I am an old whore who used to do a bit of assassinating on the side. I am elven; distrust is there before I even start negotiations. You on the other hand know your way about the trading ports, you have hired out your services with one ship, switching it to three would be easy. You have a good eye for crew and your negotiating skills when dealing with your own cargo are, shall we just say, they are impressive and you are human. What I am good at is information and administration; those ships would never be out of work.

I owe you a debt greater than you know Isabella. My daughter and grandson were on those ships tonight. The boy your friend brought out is my grandson. I have spent days getting those whores riled up enough to do something. The Crows did not feel they owed anything to one of their own and are too busy arguing over who should become the new guild master. The Guardsmen here are interested only in where their next drink is coming from. The chantry won't let their Templars be used for anything other than mages, even more so now with the news coming from the south. I was not very confident that we would succeed in getting them off those ships. To come out of that tavern and see what you had done was...humbling. Half the job done and help with the other half. You and your crew do not need to fear any word of your presence here getting out of Rialto. No one will breathe a word.

If you agree I will base myself in Rialto, more ships go in and out of here than Antiva City, easier to get the more underhand deals done here. I promise never to deal in trading slaves and profits will be shared right down the middle. I would ask that you consider taking on crew from here first; I want the kids here to have more than becoming a Crow to aspire to. I will add ships to our fleet as the opportunity arises. What do you say?"

"You would put me in charge of a fleet of ships? Are you sure you can do this? It's very ambitious. Can you really get the papers for those ships out there?"

Gianna gives her a wily grin, "Did I not tell you I'm good at administration? I'm glad we are to be partners in this. I am very grateful for your help tonight." Her grin disappears and her voice takes on a serious tone, "I also told you I am good with information and there is one piece you should know. Not long ago a man came through here on foot, said his name was Castillion and was loud in his denouncement of some bitch that had stolen his ship."

Isabella grins, "Oh that was such fun, and this is the ship. I threatened to give the Kirkwall authorities the papers that told of his plans to extend his slaving activities to the Free Marches in exchange for it."

Gianna doesn't laugh with her, "You should have killed him Isabella. I'll bet you did that old honour amongst thieves' kind of thing and he promised not to take revenge. You should have remembered that anyone dealing in slaves has no honour of any kind. The man has a contract with the Crows for you. They have been too busy in-fighting here for anyone to pick it up, but he went on to Antiva City from here. No doubt the contract will have been picked up there. You will have to deal with it or our business will never take off. I suggest you also deal with Castillion if you get the chance. He was already boasting of how he could get another ship and start his business again."

Isabella finds it hard to contain her rage, "That bastard! I'll slice him to pieces. He promised on his mother's grave!"

A knock is heard at the door before it opens and Hawke walks in with Fenris behind her, "I take it you've had some bad news."

"You were right! You told me not to trust that son of a Darkspawn; I should have killed him there and then. We're going to Antiva City; I'm going to sort that dogshit out!"

Gianna rises from her seat. "I'll get going Isabella; I'll get those ships cleaned up and get them to Llomeryn for refitting. If you're going to Antiva City first, they should be there before you. I think I might venture out on the sea and meet you when you get there. I'll get papers drawn up to make this venture legitimate." She nods at the two at the door, "Nice to hear two people enjoying themselves properly again, I never did get your names...never mind. Thank you again for your help." Hawke blushes furiously as they step back to let her leave.

"No sleep for anyone tonight! Get the ship ready, we get out of this place as soon as there is a sliver of daylight!" Isabella barks.


	6. Chapter 6

'After Kirkwall – 6'

Feynriel gasps in wonder as he sweeps aside the barrier to step into this dream. This is so different from any other he has entered. It is beautiful. He has stepped into a cleared area of grass, edged on three sides by the highest trees he has ever seen. He can see some way under the canopy of branches, enough to see that this clearing is in the middle of a dense forest, he can hear the sound of water running but he cannot see the stream the sound is coming from. The trees stretch far on all three sides; he can hear the wind rustling through them, broken only by the occasional birdsong. The clear blue sky meets the snow capped mountain in the distance; he can see trees at its skirts. Does this forest reach all the way there? This dream is so real, he can taste the clear air, fresh and untainted, so different from the air he breathes daily in Minrathous.

In front of him is an archway made of pale bleached stone, large enough for men six abreast to walk through, walls spreading out on either side, but he cannot see how far they reach round, hidden by the trees of the forest which meet it, branches clearly spreading out over the top. There is no gate, this archway beckons him, urging him to walk through, welcoming him to this place. He can see a building through the archway and starts walking towards it, hoping the dreamer he has been searching for will be there.

The building is made of the same pale stone as the wall and he can see that it is a large semicircular shape, each end coming round almost up to the wall on either side. There are a multitude of large windows spread out evenly along the face, interspersed with glass paned doors all the way round, broken only at the centre by a large double door, filled with glass panes that he can see through to the inside. As he nears he can see the corridors of bookcases inside. One of the double doors lies open, the invitation to enter made clear to him.

A single step leads him up and through the door into a library the like of which he has never seen. Light pours in through the windows, more come in from windows in the beamed roof. No dark, stuffy, claustrophobic library is this. There are books in some of the cases, but there are many that lie empty, he senses that they are sitting patiently, waiting to be filled and certain that they will fulfil their function. The sound of his boots on the tiled floor disturbs the peaceful calm of the room, but he walks in and sees her standing, lost in the words she is reading from the leather bound book she holds in her hands. She looks different to when he last saw her, her hair is longer, her skin darker, but he still recognises her and breathes a sigh of relief that at last he has found her dream.

"Hawke?" He says quietly, knowing to scare someone in their dream can send them running out of it, causing it to flutter and disappear in a flash.

"Hmm?" she says not looking up from the page.

"Hawke, it's me, Feynriel. I've been looking for you for a long while." He tilts his head trying to see her eyes that are still focused on the page in front of her.

"Feynriel...Feynriel, yes I know Feynriel." She puts a hand on the page and then reaches for the ribbon, bringing it down to mark her place in the book and closing it before turning towards him. She looks at him and smiles, "The Dreamer, if you are here then I am asleep on the ship and this is my dream again."

Feynriel smiles back at her, "Yes, Hawke. I have been searching for your dreams a long time. I'm glad to have found yours at last."

"I remember you sent me a letter back in Kirkwall, you said you found someone to teach you. I also remember a girl claiming you as her love, was that part of your training?" Hawke smirks at him.

Feynriel rubs his forehead and colour rises in his face, "Yes, I...I didn't intend for that to happen. My teacher had me start with people I knew. I had seen her in the market before...Uh Hawke, do I need to tell you the whole story?"

Hawke laughs, "I guess not. You saved me some trouble. Why are you here?"

"My time of learning is almost over. I have learnt well, maybe too well. That is why I have been looking for you."

She looks at him with a puzzled expression. "How can someone learn too well?"

"My master knows I am nearing the limits of his knowledge, I think he seeks to use me for his own ends. He knows what I am capable of and I fear he will find a way to keep me with him. I can hide some of what I know, but I don't think it will be long before he will see through my deception. I seek your help to leave. It is nearing the time when I need to be my own man, decide for myself what I do with this magic. I am grateful to him for teaching me, but I do not think he will let me go. He talks of me using blood magic to enhance my skill, but I know what that would do to me. I cannot do as he will ask, but I think he has the power to force me against my will."

Hawke nods, thinking of what she knows and what this means for the young man who has come to her dreams to find her. "Blood magic will make you the abomination Marathari feared. Your master thinks he can control it to give him the power he seeks. Fenris warned me of this when I let you go to Tevinter." She turns to look at him, "As a Dreamer, you have the power to enter your Master's dreams and stop him from doing this. Do you not?"

Feynriel sighs, "If I could enter his dreams I could defeat his demon, twist his reality, kill him with a thought, but he learnt long ago to put a magical barrier around his own dreams. I cannot get through, even if I could, I'm not sure I would want to. He has taught me much, I owe him for giving me the knowledge I sought. I do not wish him dead. I only want to stop him from doing this to me."

Hawke looks at him with pride, "You have all the integrity I could have hoped for when you left Feynriel. You have mastered your talent well. Keep hold of that until we can reach you. I will be honoured to help you with this."

Feynriel cannot hide his relief, "You would leave Kirkwall to come to Tevinter to help me?"

Hawke gives a small laugh, "I've already left, right now we are nearing Antiva City. We head to Tevinter to free a slave. Has news of Kirkwall not reached you?"

"Only rumours that mages are fighting Templars, the Magisters say there may be a war. They argue about whether they should send an army to claim back lost Imperium lands. Many want to do this, but there are also many who argue that this would leave what they have got open to Qunari invasion. For now they do nothing. Is it as bad as they say?"

"I do not know. All we have heard are the same rumours you have."

"Thank you Hawke for coming to my rescue once again. I will be able to keep my Master from his plans knowing you are on your way. Maybe I can help you free the slave you are looking for when you get here." He looks at her curiously, wondering if he should ask, before deciding,

"This place...your dream. It is like no other I have entered. Can you tell me more of it?"

Hawke smiles and her face softens, "I have been coming to this dream since I was a little girl. It started when my father first brought me to the Fade. It was different then, just the clearing in the forest. I fought off my first demon here. Father told me it was a special place, just for me. Demons used to tempt me a lot here, that's when the wall appeared. When I told father about it, he called it a mental construct I had built to defend myself. There have been no more demons in a long time.

Other things appear after events that happen in my waking world. That section of the library appeared when you left for Tevinter." She points to the far corner, where he can see a bookcase half filled. "I think this mental construct is where I put all the knowledge I have gained, I like it a lot. Come with me, there is something here I can't explain, you might be able to help." She leads him to the far wall of the room, where two more double doors lie open leading out to a courtyard at the back of the library. He can see other small buildings lining the courtyard, but in the centre he sees an elf, gliding through moves with his sword flashing in the sunlight. He remembers seeing him before, with Hawke when she brought him out of his battles with demons after being caught in the Fade.

"Fenris is my husband; he started coming here with me when we got married. I thought at first it was just me wishing him to be in this place that made it so, but sometimes he talks of his own dream and this is what he describes. Is he really in my dream Feynriel?"

He watches the elf for a while, his movements' hypnotic, allowing him to relax and think what might be happening here. "There is a book in my Master's study which talks of a spell a mage may cast that will pull someone into their dreams, but I've never heard of anyone being able to do it. Are you aware of casting a spell that might do this?"

Hawke shakes her head, "I've never even heard of it, let alone cast it, but...maybe." she looks at her hand and the ring on her finger, "I think I know a little dwarf who might have been able to do this. It makes sense."

"A Dwarf! How does that make sense?"

Hawke laughs, "I'll tell you another time." Still smiling she looks from the ring to Fenris, before turning to Feynriel.

"How will I find you when we get to Tevinter?"

"I will find you Hawke, now I know how to find my way here, I will come back. I'll see you in your dream. I will go now. Thank you for letting me in."

He turns and seems to walk into the wall, disappearing leaving no trace. Hawke walks through the doors towards the elf, still slicing through air.

"Fenris?" she calls, not wishing to get too close and get cut, even if it is only a dream. He hears her and turns, lowering the blade, watching as she comes closer.

"This is my dream; did you know that you come here?"

"I thought that might be the case. Is it the rings again?"

"I think so. I could test it; see if I can go into your dreams."

He drops the sword and pulls her in towards him, "_Never_ do that my love, please don't do it. My dreams are nightmares; I come here because I can't bear my own dreams. Let us just stay in this one."

Isabella stands at the rail, watching the Antivan coast slide by and the outskirts of Antiva City slowly get larger as they near their destination. She has been tense since leaving Rialto, impatient to catch up with Castillion and her usual vitriolic humour has deserted her, as has her feisty self-confidence. The crew feel it and have tip-toed around her, making sure they do nothing to provoke her temper. Even Hawke feels trepidation as she goes to stand beside her, but they need to talk.

"We're almost there. How do you want to play this?" Hawke asks deciding not to skirt the subject, if Isabella needs to shout at her, then let her do it, just get it over with so they can think this through. If Isabella stays in this mood, the whole visit to Antiva City will no doubt be a disaster.

"I don't know Hawke. All I want to do is get hold of the bastard and rip his balls off as I thrust my blade up his arse. Then I might slice and dice the rest of his body parts. You're the clever one, you think of something!"

"I would happily come up with some clever and cunning plan, but I need to know more of what we'll be dealing with. I need you to teach me instead of indulging in fantasies of how you a going to end the man's life!"

Isabella turns on her, "These are no fantasies Hawke, make no mistake this man will suffer! We are not leaving Antiva until I can squish his eyeballs under my boots. I'll make him sorry for even thinking about taking a contract out on me. Me! I treated him with honour, I let him live, walk away wearing the clothes on his back! I should have flayed him alive! Peeled off his skin, piece by piece, let him feel pain over every inch of his sorry carcass."

"All fantasy Isabella! It will remain fantasy until you stop this and work with me!"

Isabella turns to her, "I don't think I can, I just feel so stupid! Once again I've screwed something up! When have I ever made the right decision? If I can't get rid of Castillion, Gianna's business proposition will crumble to dust and I wonder if this is just letting me know that the business thing is just another thing that will go seriously wrong. I don't want to be a pirate for the rest of my life, but I keep thinking that there's nothing else I can do." She grips the rail so tightly her knuckles turn white.

Hawke looks at her stunned by her confession, "You really do want to go straight don't you? I can't believe the Queen of the Eastern Seas wants to become a business woman!"

"Oh shut up Hawke! It's no worse that the Champion of Kirkwall wanting to become a sailor." She breathes deeply, "Meeting Gianna again made me realise that if I don't do something now, I will end up no better off than one of her whores. She has offered me a way to make the skills I have mean something, with her I have a future. She looks to me to give her family a future. I do not want to let her down. I wonder how much more of my past will return to haunt me. I'm afraid Hawke, something I'm not used to feeling. I've never had people rely on me before."

Hawke puts her hand out to hers, "You have had people rely on you all your life Isabella, every sailor who has ever worked for you has relied on you to steer the ship through stormy waters, the only time that you failed was because the Qunari were at your back. You brought the relic back to Kirkwall; you saved many lives when you did that. I relied on you to do the right thing, you did not fail me. Castillion was the one who caused all your troubles. The only bad decision you ever made was to work for him. It's only natural that you fear his hand in destroying your future. I want to help you stop him from ruining anything more for you. Put this fear aside, it's crippling you."

"All right, I'll try, get me a drink. This is your entire fault anyway."

Isabella explains Antivans like women to be as delicate flowers, they do not like them fighting. While the Antivans are hopeless at combat themselves, the Crows are deadly. They agree the first thing they need to do is find out where Castillion is, but for going into Antiva City, they need to do something different from the usual. As the ship begins the run into port, plans begin to take shape and are explained to the whole crew.

Once the ship is berthed, Argo, Pawl, Dalan and Garth are sent out to trawl the taverns and drinking dens to see what information they can pick up, much to their delight. Isabella warns Hawke not to expect them back for a couple of days, enough time to start preparing for the rest of their plans.

Charade is excited at the thought of being Isabella for a while, even if it is to be a decoy and draw the Crows.

"Can it be done Orana; can you make her look like me?" Isabella asks dubiously,

The little elf walks round Charade and then stops with her finger to her chin, "We'll need to get some hair dye, I can use coffee grains to darken her skin. Apologies Mistress Charade, your chest is too small, but we can pad it up and make the most of what you've got. It will only be when people get too close that they will realise that your chest is not all...you."

"That's all I need." Grins Charade twirling Isabella's blades, "By then it will be too late!"

"Be careful with those blades! I've had them a long time and they don't like being in someone else's hands!" Isabella shrieks at her, feeling naked and vulnerable without her daggers.

Orana turns to her, "Making Mistress Charade look like you will be easy. Making you not look like you will be more trouble Mistress Isabella."

"What are you talking about Orana? I can hide in the Shadows better than anyone."

"That is not what I mean; you want to be seen, just not as you. You will have to remove all the piercings, you need to walk differently, I will have to change your hair colour and your skin will need to be lighter. Castillion must not have any inkling of who you might be."

Isabella blanches, "Remove my piercings? But I'm a Rivain! I've had them since I was a child! You want to change my hair! Hawke maybe this is a bad idea, I have taken off my collar that hasn't been off my neck in years, she's got my boots! I won't be me anymore!"

"Isn't that the point Isabella?" Hawke frowns at her, "It hopefully will only be for a few days, and then we can get you back to normal again. What about me? Fenris is going to have a fit when he finds out what I'm going to turn into!"

"He'll need to get really angry at you for this to be worth it!"

"NO Hawke, this is NOT right! I won't help you with this one!" Isabella stands grinning like the cat with the cream. Fenris is every bit as uncomfortable with this as she hoped he would be. She knows Hawke will do this anyway, with or without her husband's help. It is just so delicious watching them argue, they have been too loved up since they got on this ship. Watching them spark is making up a lot for having to remove her piercings.

"Fenris, the man is a slave trader. We need to stop him. This is the only way we can flush him out. If I can't convince him then it won't work! I need you to tell me how I can do that." Hawke uses all of her powers of persuasion and she knows it is working when the shouting stops."

"A magister Hawke, even a pretend one, is something I never wanted to see you come close to becoming."

"You won't." She says quickly, "We need you here on the ship should the Crows come for Charade. I promise you as soon as Castillion is dead, the fake magister will disappear."

His shoulders slump in defeat, "All right, I'll help, but I'll hate every minute of it. As for you Isabella," Isabella jumps as he glares at her, "Make sure you do the job properly this time. I don't want to see Hawke haul your sorry backside out of any trouble again. I won't be as forgiving as she is."

Varania goes to the market with Hamahakis in tow, both of them leaving to warnings and advice on dealing with the many pickpockets on the streets of the city and Orana making Varania recite all the things she requires them to buy.

As Fenris gives her details of how magisters walk, talk and generally behave in public, Hawke began to wonder why he made such a fuss, becoming a fake magister wasn't going to take much; Be very haughty, ignore the slaves in your retinue, let everyone else do everything for you and generally act like a spoilt brat. However, treating everyone around you with contempt proved harder than she thought and she needed the time it took for the boys to return, before she stopped apologising to everyone every time she was horrible to them.

Dalan and Garp returned first, they had heard nothing of Castillion, but had heard there was a slave ship berthed at the other end of the dock. They had gone to check the ship, but if there were any slaves on board they were being very quiet and the harbour master refused to tell them anything about the owner. Pawl returned next, begging Hawke to do something for the hangover he was nursing. His relief is palpable when she agrees to relieve his headache. He reports to Isabella he met a man who had met Castillion two weeks before. No longer talking about Isabella stealing his ship from him, but he had been in negotiations to buy a ship. Pawl's shoulders slump, "The man mentioned Castillion had been very pleased about another matter. Said he had another contract that he expected good results from. Cap'n, sounds like someone in the Crows has picked up his contract."

Argo returns last, swaying a little as he walks up the gangplank, only to lose it when he walks into Isabella's cabin. Grinning broadly at Hawke, "I never drink M'Lady, but it don't do any harm to let the shore lads think I do." Giving her an exaggerated wink he turns to Isabella.

"The man bunks down in a fancy set up Cap'n, 'Pink Slipper', near the Palace. Harbour master's mate says he just paid for a ship. Talk is he's spent last few weeks calling in all his marks to get the coin for it. Sounds ripe for you to pick at him. Other word is Templar chappies very twitchy; mages might be ready to copy Kirkwall. Suggest you get this done toot sweet Cap'n. Put out word you scared of birdy guys and lookin' for more crew. Heard of some int'resting possible for selling below deck stuff,"he says, giving Isabella a wink and licking his lips, "like to chase 'em up if I may Cap'n, won't let ya down, if'n ya give us a chance. Can't think of nothin'else needs tellin'."

Isabella smiles luridly at him, "I'll see you get your reward later. Good man! You've got your chance for the goods and if any turn up looking for work, you check them out, take on any you think are good for it." The little man catches his forelock at her before turning and leaving the cabin.

"Did he just act as pimp for you?" Asks Hawke, failing miserably to hide her distaste at what she thought she might have heard the man say.

Isabella gives a bellow laugh, "In a sense you idiot, but he's talking about cargo, not my personal assets. Argo loves haggling, turns him on more than me. I won't have time to do the merchant stuff, if Argo can make some coin to replace what this operation is going to cost, he'll make me a very appreciative Captain."

"Will it take a lot of coin? I think I can help if you need it." Hawke offers.

"You can't pretend to be a magister Hawke and not flash the gold about. I have made enough on the way here to see us through it, don't worry about it." Isabella grins at Hawke, "Right then, the masquerade is on, time to get your glad rags on girl."

Orana and Varania spend the next two hours turning Hawke into a magister, twisting, curling and pinning her hair, going through a plethora of pots applying makeup. Varania dresses her in the robes she has been altering and decorating in the style of Tevinter magisters. Isabella whistles as she walks in, "Good work girls, no one will recognise her now."

Orana blinks her eyes at Isabella, "I think it is your turn now Mistress Isabella." Isabella groans, but submits to her administrations. Hawke watches fascinated as Isabella changes in front of her from the sultry beauty to the plain magister's companion they have agreed will be her part. Paste is applied to her hair and once removed; her hair has turned a light auburn colour. Orana uses a different paste to cover her skin, smoothing and blending it, turning Isabella's skin lighter as it is applied. Piercing holes are filled in and Orana uses the paste to make them invisible. Varania hands her Hawke's old noble robes that she has altered to fit Isabella's different frame. Charade puts on all Isabella's discarded embellishments as every trace of Isabella is removed or covered up. They all plead with Isabella not to cry when she sees her reflection once it is done.

"What have you done to me? No one will want 'alone time' with this! Please can I have my boots back at least, these damn shoes are pinching my toes already!"

Varania steps towards her, "You no longer look like you, that is the point of all this. No one will notice you behind the glare that is the magister." She gives her a more sympathetic smile, "This might make you feel better, I've made this for you to wear underneath." Varania holds out what initially looks like a pair of leather shorts with straps. Once Isabella puts them on Varania ties the straps and starts placing small daggers and knives in the holsters she has sewn into the shorts and straps. Isabella's face lights up as each weapon is added. Varania places the last of the knives and stands up, "There are pockets sewn into the seam of the dress with no bottom, just reach in them to access the weapons." Putting a hand in the side of the dress she demonstrates and pulls out a knife. "There is one more thing; I hope it will be useful to you." She pulls out a box from her pocket, opening it to reveal long pins with beads at their head. "These are laced with poison at the sharp end. Do not touch them whatever you do, touch only the bead." She starts carefully poking them into the edge of the collar to Isabella's dress, making sure the pointed end is embedded in the strip of padding she has sewn in for this very purpose. Once in place, the beads look simply like added decoration for the dress. "I thought they might be useful if you needed something more subtle than a knife."

"By all the Gods of the sea Varania, where did you learn to do all this?" Isabella asks her incredulously.

Varania smirks, "A tailoress in Tevinter learns many of the tricks that magisters use when their magic is not so good. There is more I could do, but we don't have the time."

Isabella chuckles, "I might not look like me on the surface, but armed to the teeth like this, I feel all myself underneath. Time to make our way to the 'Pink Slipper' don't you think ladies?"

Charade gives a sigh, "I wish I was coming with you."

Isabella looks her up and down, "You make a passable me, make use of 'alone time' all you want, then you might be glad you are the one left behind."

Charade giggles, "I might just do that."

As they go on deck Hawke seeks Fenris out with her eyes only to see him turn his back on her to lean on the rail. Motioning for the others to wait she approaches his back, "Is it that bad? "

"No, my sister has done a fine job."

"Any last advice before we go?"

"Don't talk to elves. Elves are scum to you now." He says bitterly.

She puts her hand on top of his on the rail, "Not this one, never this one." He turns his hand to grasp hers tight in his own, but continues to look out to the horizon.

"Dream your dream tonight Hawke, I don't wish to be alone with my own."

She squeezes his hand, "I'll dream my dream, and you won't be alone."

Isabella whispers in her ear once she returns to the top of the gangplank, "Get the bitch face on now Hawke, we are about to have the best girls night out ever!"

Antiva City is as beautiful as Isabella had told her it would be. Flowers hang from balconies scenting the streets with a heady powerful aroma. Music drifts out from every building as they pass. Women pass by walking slowly, swaying their hips, enticing all to follow. The white stone walls and spires of the Palace overlook all. Men and women look at Hawke appreciatively as she tries to maintain the hauteur that Fenris has told her all magisters convey. The stalls and shops are bright and colourful, displaying wares from all over Thedas. Finding the 'Pink Slipper' is easy; the street from the docks takes them straight to the palace gate. The establishment is opposite the gate, built as if in tribute to the architecture of the Palace, every bit as fancy as Argo had suggested it would be.

The cool air that meets them on entering is a welcome change from the heat of the outdoors. Marble floors and pillars line the open space of the reception, light sheer curtains billow in the slight breeze that wafts through, partitioning small areas where guests can sit comfortably on sofas and chairs. There are few people occupying the reception, served by tall willowy waitresses holding trays carrying jugs of cooled drinks, beads of condensation dripping down the length of the glass.

A tall man with short dark hair in a black linen suit approaches Hawke and bows deeply,

"Welcome my Lady; you will want rooms for the night I trust. You will want the best facilities we have to offer to prepare for your visit to the King no doubt. A representative from Tevinter is rare, but not unknown; we are well versed in seeing to all of your particular needs. Ricardo here will show you to your suite, if there is anything you need do not hesitate to ask. I hope you enjoy your stay."

Hawke can only nod as Ricardo indicates they should follow him. He leads them up the sweeping staircase to a wide square with doors along the corridor. They are led to the door at the end which opens into a suite of rooms, opulent in their decoration. Isabella gives the man some coin, telling him it would please her mistress if he could have some refreshments sent to the room, before he bows and leaves.

As the door closes the four women look at each other and giggle.

"Dear Maker, Isabella, this place is very fancy indeed," Hawke states. "Kirkwall had nothing like this."

"Even if it did, we would never have got in! Pats on the back all round, we've pulled it off so far. Now we have to just keep this going until Castillion takes the bait."

Orana looks at Isabella, a frown creeping onto her forehead, "Will we have to visit the King?"

Isabella laughs, "No, sweet thing. It's just the assumption made. Everyone who wants to meet with the king comes here to stay, but this is also where all the best merchants and traders come to meet and broker their deals. That will be why Castillion is staying here. He will hear of the Tevinter Lady and won't be able to resist making an approach to do some business. That should happen long before we are expected to make any visits to the monarchy."

"So what happens now?" Hawke asks.

"You act the high and mighty lady. You two," she looks to Orana and Varania, "go into slave mode for the evening, get water for your mistress's bath and are seen running errands for her. Tomorrow we go shopping and spend a lot of coin, let as many people in Antiva City see us to make sure Castillion hears about it. If we are lucky he should make his approach when we return. We kill him and get out again; leaving Antiva behind and getting ourselves back to normal again."

The evening passes as Isabella suggested until they decide to retire when a voice is heard from the balcony,

"Ahhh, what more could a man wish for, four beautiful women preparing for bed. Mind if I join you?"

Isabella starts at the familiar voice, turning to see the blond elf leaning lazily on the wall with his arms folded, "Zevran? What are you doing here?"

"This is my home city, what else would I be doing? Stirring up trouble for the Crows when I hear the lovely Isabella is in town. What else can an old friend do, but call in to say hello and renew the fires of passion left smouldering for so long?" he moves to walk round the women, staring luridly at all of them. "Imagine my surprise, when the friend I find is not her. Another lovely face, she does well at being you Isabella, a good imitation in almost every way, very friendly. And what else do I find? An elf with a very large sword I have met before with the beautiful Champion of Kirkwall, he was not so friendly. What is my Isabella up to? I ask myself. As they would not tell me, I am forced to sneak about the city, until I look upon the interesting sight from the balcony here. Is that really Isabella and the Champion? I cannot help but take a closer look, just to make sure of course, and here you both are. Looking more than a little different from what I remember. A mystery I'm closer to unravelling, no?"

Isabella sidles towards him, stroking his cheek with her fingers, "You're slipping up elf, we've been here for days, why has it taken until now before you surprise us with a visit?"

Zevran grabs her round the waist, "You know how it is, busy, busy, busy. Some business with Crows who need wings clipping; besides you never sent me an invitation to this little party. I would have brought gifts had I known. "

Orana stares at him, her eyes wide, watching intently every move he is making, "Are you going to kill us?"

Zevran releases Isabella to focus his attention on the clearly terrified elf woman, "If I was you would already be making your way beyond the veil, my dear lady." He says pulling a strand of her hair through his fingers, "No, much more fun to play with you all." He looks towards Varania who narrows her eyes and folds her arms, "Ah, I can see not all of you wish to play." He comes last to Hawke, "What about you Champion, let me play a guessing game with you." Hawke looks back at him, a smirk on her lips, but saying nothing. "A guessing game it is then. I heard the little Crows squawking, work to be done to help my old friend Isabella say goodbye to her sea faring days. I would guess her friends would not like that. I would guess that the alternative Isabella is bait for those Crows unfortunate enough to think they could they could fulfil the contract. I would guess that the real Isabella prefer to pay the man who wishes her gone a visit. I would guess you ladies have woven a web to trap the fly that is Castillion, a low down dog who trades in people's lives. How am I doing so far Champion?"

"A Champion no more Zevran, you play your guessing game well. What do you plan to do if your guesses are correct?" Hawke asks, not quite ready to trust this elf that has blithely interrupted their evening.

"My dear lady," He says throwing his arms out wide, "You helped get that troublesome Nuncio off my back. What makes you think I would do anything other than return the favour? Your elf back at the ship is good, but I hear there may be more Crows than even he could handle. While I have no doubt you lovely ladies will be successful, I think you may have underestimated the problem you have left behind. The opportunity for me to ruffle more Crow feathers is too tempting. I would return to aid your beleaguered colleagues. Perhaps your elf would be friendlier then, no?" He turns around once more to look at each of the women in turn, "So, if my guesses are correct, may I claim a prize for winning the game?"

Isabella steps forward, "I doubt the others would let you claim them, however for some time with you, I might consider I had won the prize. Perhaps when this is over, we might spend some time together?"

"A perfect prize Isabella, to hope for more would be greedy of me. Until it is over then. I'll let myself out ladies." He turns to the balcony and waves before disappearing into the night.

Hawke sleeps and finds herself in the library. A cool breeze wafting through the open doors and shafts of bright sunlight coming through the windows. There is no sign of Fenris; she can see the courtyard is empty, where she usually finds him. As she wanders round, the only sound is the wind and the birds; there is no sign of him. Worry is niggling at the back of her head. Shades of the hate he had held for Danarius had come back while he had helped her learn how to behave as a magister would. She knew it was more than him just feeling uncomfortable with what she was doing, but he couldn't be drawn out to talk about it.

When he had asked her to dream, he had sounded desperate. It was more than just asking to find a way to be with her on the first night they would spend apart since leaving Kirkwall. Where was he? As she walks in and out of buildings her fears build, no sign of Fenris, not even one of the ghostly figures of dream people she sometimes sees. The peace of her dream is unbroken, this place always feels safe for her, and the feelings of dread are unfamiliar to how she usually feels here. She returns to the courtyard in the hope he might have appeared while she has been looking, but he is still not there. He had sounded like he needed this so much; she sits down on the flagstone at a loss as to what to do next. Was it the distance? Did they need to be closer to each other in reality for this to work?

She stares at the ring on her finger. There is only one thing left she can do, but he had pleaded with her not to try it, "My dreams are nightmares." He had said, he did not want her in them. She did not want to go against what he had asked, but if he was not here, it was either that distance did affect the rings ability to allow him or he was caught in his nightmares. Were his nightmares so bad? Were demons attracted because of the lyrium in his tattoos? He had never told her, never spoken of them, a part of him he kept apart and separate. Unsure if she should try, the memory of helping Aveline to get the time alone with Donnic on the Wounded Coast so she could tell him how she felt comes into her mind. She smiles as she remembers the abject failure of Aveline to express her feelings and remembers eventually telling Aveline, "Friends sometimes push." When making it clear to Donnic how Aveline felt about him. Is this the time to be a friend to Fenris and push? Could she help him in his nightmare? Would he turn from her if she did? He had shifted his views and ideas about so many things because of her, supported her when she had decided to help the mages in Kirkwall, the very people he had warned her of time and time again, followed her because he loved her and trusted her even when he didn't agree with her. How much would he trust her if she did the one thing he had asked her never to do? "Dream your dream tonight Hawke, I don't wish to be alone with my own." He had said. She had promised him he would not be alone.

She looks at the ring...and pushes.

He has displeased his Master again. He didn't intend to, he never intends to. Every waking moment he thinks of his Master, does what he tells him to do, tries to think what he might want him to do before his Master has to tell him, follows every order, no other thoughts but his Master's needs enter his head. His Master is all he has ever known. The Master tells him he is the only one that matters and he accepts this must be so; he is to protect his Master, which is his function.

His Master had told him to stand in the middle of the room and he had. Head straight-ahead, looking only at his Master. His Master had told him to demonstrate his sword forms and he had, the blade flashing as it flew around him reflecting the light from the candles. He could hear the dinner guests at the tables around him, talking about him, admiring him, telling his Master how jealous they were at his powers of creation. Hear them asking how he had done it and him declining to divulge his methods. His Master had smiled at the guests telling them only that he no longer needed to worry about non magical attacks. His master had told him to 'light up' and he had, there had been pain, not as much as there had been when he first ordered him to do it, but it was still there. He had learnt not to let the pain show, no twitch in his face or body to give away the internal agony. The guests had made sounds of 'Oh! And "Ah!" as his Master had told them of how the lyrium made him stronger and faster than any Tevinter Templar. When the elf had been brought forward his Master had told him to 'phase' and he had, feeling his arm dissolve in the air. When his Master had told him to take out the elf's heart, he had done this also and the elf had died and dropped to the floor immediately and he had placed the heart on the table before his Master as he had told him he should do. He could hear the change in the guests' voices, they became quiet and whispered, no longer laughing and trying to wheedle information from his Master. He could see the hand of the guest sitting beside his Master begin to tremble. All of them except one. He could hear her behind him; this one did not go quiet. This one clapped her hands slowly, "Impressive Danarius." She had said and stood up from her seat to begin walking towards his back. His Master's face had changed to a scowl, he had seen that look before, and his Master was not pleased. He had frantically tried to think what he could do that would make his Master pleased again, but he could think of nothing as she had reached round him to place one hand on his chest and grabbed him between his legs with the other. "Is that all he does?" she had breathed in his ear. He had been unable to stop his body's response, he had felt the heat and the pressure of her hands through the hide, her warm breath at his neck had sent shivers all the way down his spine and he had been helpless to stop it. Danarius had noticed the swelling as she had pulled her hands away and so now he was here.

Danarius had thrown him into the cell wrapped in his magic, unable to move his limbs he had been lifted and thrown on the floor. He can feel blood trickling down his forehead from the point where his head had battered against the stone.

"You are mine elf! Every part of you!" Danarius walks around him as he lies. He made a movement with his fingers and Fenris had found himself lifted again and suspended in the air. Manacles from the ceiling and floor had flown on their chains to wrap round his wrists and ankles and then the spell had been released to let him fall. He felt his arms jar as his body slumps but his wrists stay where the manacles have put them, unable to follow the rest of him.

"I made you and every breath you take is on _my_ order!" Danarius waves a hand and he can feel the ripping and tearing as every piece of clothing he wears splits and shreds to fly to the corners of the cell.

"Your body does not twitch unless I say so!" Danarius grabs his manhood with a vice like grip, "Even this! No bitch will ever do that to you again! You make sure of that! It is mine, like every piece of flesh you have and it will do that only for me!" He pulls the whip out and cracks it once on the floor before Fenris feels it start on his legs. Danarius does not stop cracking the whip, moving round him, flaying his body, he can feel it slicing at his skin and blood trickling down from the cuts it creates. His body knows nothing but pain, but he doesn't cry out, his mind focussed solely on not uttering a sound which would displease his Master even more. He can't hear what his Master is saying any more, but each utterance is emphasised with another crack of the whip, another slice at his flesh.

The whip lashes slow as Danarius' voice deepens and the demon he thinks he controls begins to show through, changing and distorting his features, Fenris feels the Danarius/Demon grab him round his waist and fire rips through his insides as he enters him from behind. The thrusting starts and he can't help the sound of his exhalation as he is pulled back each time, the Danarius/Demon arm crushing his chest as it pulls.

"Fenris, can you hear me?" a familiar voice breaks past what is happening to him. A female voice, a voice filled with compassion and love. A hand touches his cheek, soft and warm, at odds with the pain he feels in every other part of his body. He opens his eyes to see a face, her face, tears streaming from her eyes, she should not be here.

"Fenris, this is a memory, it is not real and it's not happening now. You can stop this." She says quietly, he can hear her voice breaking, struggling to talk to him and hold back her screams.

"He's my Master; I must do as he wishes."

The face wavers for a moment before solidifying again, "He's your Master no longer, you killed him, remember?" The face is Hawke, he remembers now. She should not be here.

"His magic is too strong I cannot fight him." More tears start streaming down her face,

"You have to. You can do this. He can't be your Master if he's dead." Her voice is louder this time, he can hear her clearly now over the grunts and groans from behind him. She should not be here. He told her not to come here, but she has come anyway. Deep inside his core he can feel anger building. She should not be here! This place is not for her! It will taint her; she has seen what he never wanted her to see. She should not be here! His anger builds more, enough that he begins to see what he can do.

His tattoos flare bright as he stretches his arms wide and they phase and he pulls them through the metal of the manacles. "NO!" he roars as he turns to put his hand in the chest at his back ripping out its heart. The demon bellows with rage before everything wavers and the memory disappears like smoke caught in a breeze. The pain stops suddenly and he is able to breathe unhindered once more. The wounds on his body vanish as if they had never been. He turns his hands over, watching the flare of his tattoos fade, not quite believing what he is seeing. This never happened before. This memory has haunted him ever since it occurred, never before has he managed to halt the painful and degrading progression. He didn't think he could. Always he would come back to the present, sweating and shaking, feeling weak and unable to sleep. Angry at himself for the lack of control he had over these memories. He feels anything but weak now, the adrenaline surge that ran through him is still there, but the anger has gone replaced by what? He does not know what this feeling is, but it feels good, like a piece of him has shifted into place.

He stands in an expense of white. There is nothing to see except Hawke on her knees, her hands covering her face repeating over and over, "I'm sorry." She hasn't realised that the memory has gone. He kneels down beside her and gathers her into his arms. She should not have come here, but he is a little glad that she did. His hand reaches up and he wipes away her tears with his thumb.

"It's all right Hawke." He says, surprised that he means it. "It's gone."

She brings her head up to look at him, something has changed. He looks different; she brings her hand up to touch his face and feels the tension that was present at his jaw line has gone. He is smiling, a free relaxed smile she hasn't seen him give her before. He isn't angry at her, he isn't angry at all. She looks around taking in the white surrounding them; the nightmare has truly gone, along with everything else. What is this place? No dreamscape to break up the white. Nothing. A blank slate. Then she realises what it must be, this is Fenris' dream and he has none. Plagued by memories he has never had the true dreams of sleep. He has been like a mage thrust into the Fade to deal with their demon at a harrowing, but he has never defeated it until now and there was no Templar in the real world to kill him for his failure. If she hadn't come here, would he have been doomed to relive these memories until the day he died? He might still be if she doesn't help him now. This is only one memory, she has no doubt there are many more waiting to claim him as soon as he closes his eyes. His nightmares are not done.

"Fenris, my recurrent dream began a long time ago and it was my father who guided me in making what he called my 'mental constructs' to help protect me in my sleep from the demons that would come looking for me there. I think you need to create your own to protect you from these memories."

He looks at her puzzled, "How would I do that?"

"I think you need to use your imagination, you need to dream." She takes his hands, "Imagine a place where you feel safe, it can be anything you wish, just picture what you need around you to make you feel as if nothing and no one can get to you unless you want them to."

The white begins to shimmer as he listens to what she says, colours appear at the edges, and indistinct shapes begin to appear. Underneath them the solid form of earth covered in grass begins to appear. Around them the shapes swirl and become clearer, becoming blocks of stone. Hawke sees the blocks flying around her and begin to find a place where they stop and gather. Ahead of them, she sees the blocks begin to take the shape of a fortress, buttresses, crenulations and ramparts all appear as it takes shape. The portcullis is the only way in and they sit in front of it. Above them the blue of the sky appears with small clouds scudding along.

"This place is real isn't it?" Hawke comments.

"When I ran from Seheron to Kirkwall I came through Nevarra. Isolated in the Silent Plains, was this fortress. It did not look like this, it was crumbling, the roof had fallen in, and parts of it were just rubble on the ground. I remember thinking it must have been magnificent before it was deserted. I stopped there for a few days and while I was there, nothing troubled me. No bounty hunters came near, no bandit gangs, no dragons, nothing. Even with the state of disrepair, in that place I felt safe. When I slept there was nothing, no memories, just sleep. This is my safe place."

"Your bad memories will still come, they will not stop. What will you do with them?"

He looks at the fortress of his dream, "Fortresses have dungeons. This one has many of them. Each time a memory comes I will defeat it. They will be imprisoned there. I can then choose to revisit them or not. The choice is mine." He turns back to face her, doubts beginning to trouble him, "You saw what he did to me, I am damaged Hawke, the healing I need will take time and none of your magic can do it for me. Are you sure you want this?"

"There's nothing I've ever wanted more."

The morning sees Orana and Varania taking especial care to perfect the disguises of Isabella and Hawke, fearful that anyone might recognise either of them. Hawke uses the tension she feels to help feed the disdain she must show for her elven companions as they trail round market stalls. Waking without Fenris curled round her back had made her feel empty and irritable. She found herself ignoring easily the prattle of the merchants outdoing themselves to try and impress her with their wares; she could show no interest in what they had to sell. Isabella whispers in her ear as they walk to another stall, "You're doing great with the bitch thing, but you need to buy stuff Hawke; the merchants won't talk about you if you don't. We want them to think you have coin to waste, Castillion needs to think dealing with you will be worth his while."

"All right, all right." She snaps, "I'll do it." Annoyed at herself for not paying attention to what they need to do. She looks around at the many shops and stalls, wondering where to start. Then she grins as an idea begins to form in her head. They need to talk about me do they? Let's give them something to talk about. She approaches a large stall selling rolls of cloth and textiles. Looking critically at each one she starts picking out rolls and turns to the stall holder.

"I have more to buy, have your assistants follow me with my purchases; I will send them back to you when I am done." The merchant bows deeply, and starts directing his assistants to lift the selected rolls and follow the lady. Isabella gives the man his coin and turns to see Hawke has moved to the Vintners, Orana and Varania at her heels. Hawke sips and spits the samples of wines the merchant has ready, then points to the ones she selects and demands a crate of each and demands that his assistants also follow her until she is finished. Isabella gives a small inward laugh as Hawke moves on as she sees the line of assistants all carrying her purchases build up at her back. The next stall she stops at is laden with leathers; she snaps her fingers at Varania and points at her to pick out the pieces. Varania handles each piece feeling the different qualities and indicates which ones Hawke should purchase. As the merchant rolls up the leather and gathers assistants to carry them, Varania tugs lightly at Hawke's robes. Following the direction of Varania's eyes she spots a large stall selling haberdashery. Again she snaps her fingers at Varania, who starts picking out a multitude of items for the merchant to package. As she reaches the herbalist's stand, she can hear the market begin to buzz with talk of the woman who has a trail of people following her.

"Make this the last Hawke, we've run out of coin. You've done enough" Isabella whispers in her ear. Hawke gives the slightest of nods before selecting more wares. She makes a show of looking at more stalls before turning back to the 'Pink Slipper'. As she enters a small boy runs to her and hands her an envelope before running off. The note inside is from Castillion requesting the pleasure of her company to discuss matters to their mutual benefit. As she looks up she sees him holding aside a curtain to a partitioned area. The plan has worked; the man looks relaxed, clearly not recognising either Hawke or Isabella. She gives him a nod before snapping her fingers at Ricardo who ran to stand at attention a few feet before her as soon as she walked through the door.

"Arrange for a cart to take my wares to my ship. This one will direct you." She waves her hand at Orana to walk forward as Ricardo bows before going off to carry out her instructions the assistants now following him. She nods at Orana who curtsies and follows Ricardo through a door to the rear courtyard. She turns to Isabella to talk under her breath,

"Well, we did it. There he is, do you want to do this now or do we have something to eat first?"

"No time like the present. Let's see how well these needles of Varania's work."

Isabella walks demurely over to where Castillion is seated. He rises as she approaches and bows. Isabella grabs his neck with one hand and puts the needle into it with the other, "A message from Isabella, 'you deserve no more than the little prick you are." He manages to raise his head, his face registering surprise as Isabella reaches into a pocket for a knife to finish him off. The blade is unnecessary as Castillion has already stopped breathing and his eyes film over. Isabella catches him to sit him back on the seat and calmly pulls the curtain before walking back to Hawke and following her up the stairs.

"The bastard will bother me no more. I just wish I could have made him suffer more. I really was enjoying the thought of skinning him alive. Now, how in Thedas do we get out of here?" Isabella asks as soon as they are in the room. Varania walks over to her bag and pulls out chantry robes, "Wash all the makeup off your faces and put these on. No one will ever guess it's you two."

Hawke looks at her stunned, "Where in Thedas did you get these?"

"Don't ask me; ask Isabella, I found them in the chest where I got the leather for her shorts and the poison for the needles. I thought they might come in handy should you need an alternative look in a hurry."

Hawke stares at Isabella, who shrugs her shoulders at her, "So I had fun with a chantry priestess once! She didn't need them after we were finished!"

Hawke shakes her head, "So you lied when you said you had no decent clothes to wear to marry me and Fenris?"

"Oh come on Hawke! Me marrying you two was a bad idea to begin with, that would have made it farcical!"

"True Isabella. I think I would have died from laughing before Fenris had got anywhere near my hand with the ring. Let's leave the same way Zevran did. No need to let the man downstairs know we have no coin left to pay the bill. Maybe we can get back to the ship before the Crows find out Charade isn't Isabella."

Varania watches out of the balcony as they change and sees Orana leave following the cart. The sounds of shouts and screams drift up from downstairs as they start climbing down the balcony.

Isabella swears, "Sounds like Castillion has just made his last impression. We have to move."

However once out in the street they have to move sedately as chantry sisters would if they don't want to draw attention. Hawke gives a small laugh as she realises the contrast to their earlier activities. The walk to the docks seems to take forever as all their instincts are telling them to run and as they approach the ship it becomes clear that their instincts were correct.

Orana stands with the cart on the edge of an almighty melee. What can only be Crows are climbing up the ropes to the ship, pushing at each other to get on from the gangplank and a few have gone into the water to climb up the sides. Hawke can hear Fenris' blade swinging at those already on the ship and pushes with the ring to send him a blast of stamina and strength from her. There is no sign of Argo, Pawl, Dalan and Garp, which Hawke reads as a bad one, hoping they have not returned too late. Hamahakis can barely be seen as he flits from attacker to attacker. Charade stands on top of the cabin roof firing arrows in quick succession. Zevran is fighting a group on the dock and is joined by Isabella ripping at the chantry robe to get access to the weapons underneath.

Hawke grabs Varania's hand, "Chain lightning and we need to be quick." Varania nods and the two women send out a streak of lightning from their joined hands which jumps from Crow to Crow sending them flying to land heavily on the cobbles or directly into the water. Hawke doesn't wait for the lightning to finish it's jumping before the air turns cold and an area of Crows are frozen mid attack. Varania lets go of Hawke's hand as her mana is exhausted leaving Hawke to send out balls of flame as the tide of attackers thins out and fewer and fewer are left. Hamahakis throws a blade at the last one and silence falls over the docks. They all stand still for a moment letting the adrenaline dissipate and their breathing slow.

Hawke is the first to move, running up the gangplank to kneel beside Argo, healing his wounds before moving to Pawl. Pawl is at the aft end and groans loudly as the healing takes effect. As she helps him to his feet, she can hear someone starting to laugh and then more as others join in. Isabella comes to help her with the big man,

"It's the robes Hawke; we are never going to live this down."

"I suppose it is quite funny. You...and me...sisters?"

Isabella bends her head, "That's not all, Zevran wants me to keep it on when we...you know. Says it will fulfil a long held fantasy he has had. He is such a greasy bastard! If it wasn't for the fact he wants me to keep these shorts on as well I think I could hate him!"

Isabella walks off to talk with Argo and Pawl sways a little before wandering below deck to get a drink.

Fenris walks over to stand in front of her, "I had great fear of what even pretending to be a magister might do to you, but becoming a sister?" a slight grin teasing the corners of his mouth.

"Oh laugh it up broody boy! Blame your sister, it was her idea." Hawke looks down at the robes, "I need to get out of these things." She starts walking to the stairs.

"Need some help?" she turns to see him raise an eyebrow at her. Glad to see the bitterness of yesterday has left him she answers, "Need it? No. Want it? Yes."

They return on deck to find a collection of strange men on board with Dalan and Garp. Argo directing them in cleaning up the mess, loading cargo and emptying the cart of Hawke's purchases. Varania showing them exactly where she wants the cart contents placed. She spies them and runs to them, the normally very reserved woman's face alight with excitement,

"I can't believe you bought all that stuff! I can't wait to start work. Thank you Hawke."

"I didn't think you would want to go back to tailoring again. It didn't sound like you enjoyed it that much when you did it before." Hawke comments.

Varania smiles, "I didn't get to choose what I made before. Making up the costumes for you and Isabella gave me ideas I'd like to try out. The clothes I make for you all will do much more than keep you covered."

Charade approaches and explains that the strange men are extra crew that Argo had picked up for Isabella.

"Dalan and Garp had just taken them for their last drink before coming with us when the Crows attacked. Someone among them wasn't stupid, waited until there were fewer of us on board before making their move. I'm glad you arrived when you did, even with Zevran's help it wasn't looking good."

Hawke gives her a long look. "About Zevran..." Charade's face turns a bright shade of red and Hawke thinks better of pushing this with her cousin, "Never mind, I can guess what happened. I'm just glad my uncle's back in Kirkwall, he would no doubt blame me."

"He's still helping!...I think. Isabella said he was going to get Castillion's ship for her. He's very...helpful. He taught me some new moves with my weapons."

Fenris grunts, "I'll bet he did." The colour rises once again in Charade's cheeks.

"Where is Isabella?" Hawke asks looking around.

"She went off with Zevran. Said they would be back later. Strange thing...she still had those ripped robes on. I would have thought she would want all her own stuff back right away. Hamahakis left as well, said he wanted to check if any of his old friends were still about."

Hawke rubs her forehead with her hand, "I think we've heard enough about Zevran. Let's find some of that wine I bought, I can feel a party coming on."

Isabella returns alone later, waving a piece of paper in her hand. "We got his ship! Two ships stolen from the same man. Almost makes me sorry I killed him, I could have gone for a hat trick! Argo you wonderful little man where have you got to?"

Argo runs up to her grabbing his forelock, "Right here Cap'n. Ready and willin'."

Isabella looks fondly at him, "I'm going to miss having you about, but you deserve this. I'm making you captain of the new ship. Take your pick of the men you found, leave me a few for this one. Get it ready, we sail for my own home town tomorrow, but tonight...tonight we get legless!"

People on the docks walk by staring up at the crowd laughing and singing on the ship. Isabella sits with Hawke.

"Thank you my friend. The last piece of my past dealt with. I would have preferred it if he had died more slowly, he deserved to suffer more, but he's gone along with his damned contract. I won't have to look over my shoulder any more. Gianna will be pleased. I can start being a proper merchant now." She looks sidelong at Hawke. "We won't be pirates any more, does that bother you?"

Hawke laughs, "I'm not convinced all your pirate activities will disappear in your new career, but no I'm not bothered. I'm not sure I make a good pirate. I might make a reasonable sailor one day. That will be good enough."

Isabella sighs, "You won't be doing this forever Hawke. I love having you with me, but you will leave one day. Sailing is not in your blood. It's not in Fenris' either. I will be sad when you go."

"You shouldn't drink so much Isabella, you get maudlin' when you're drunk. The only place we're going for now is Minrathous. Orana needs her Poppa, Feynriel needs us again and there's some bastard there who needs stopped from tearing apart the lives of children. I'm going nowhere until those things are sorted out."

Varania stands with her brother at the rail watching the two women chatting. "You know, she would make a formidable magister. She carried the part well; everyone we met assumed she was from Tevinter. If there had been another magister here, she would have fooled them as well."

Fenris frowns, "That's what I'm afraid of. When we get to Minrathous they will want to claim her as one of their own. What if when we get there she decides that's what she wants?"

Varania looks at him concerned, "Do you trust her so little?"

"It's not her I don't trust. It's magisters. She has never seen what they can do. They are masters of manipulation. You know this well. I just don't relish the thought that I would be right back where I started."

"I don't think being a magister is something she would ever want. You should not worry so much. I was just saying she would be a good one if she did. Why not persuade her not to go to Minrathous? I don't relish the thought of going back there myself; I assume you would not go there if it were not for her."

"I'm not sure Hawke would go there either, but she promised Orana to find her father. The boy Feynriel has asked for her help. I would not leave one with his talents in the hands of magisters. So I will go willingly to Minrathous. At least Danarius will not be there to greet me. What of you sister, have you truly given up your own hopes of becoming a magister?"

Varania laughs, "That one is long gone now. I don't think I would ever have become a magister. I think now that Danarius only said that to get to you. Working with Hawke I'm learning a different way, a better way. One day I think her way will challenge the way all mages are taught. It might even challenge the magisters. One day even you might trust mages to use their magic wisely."

"I doubt it very much." He turns to face her, "I said before that I hoped I could trust you as I trust Hawke. You're almost there." He smiles and goes to give her a brotherly hug, but stops as he looks onto the dockside from the rail. Hamakis is running towards the ship and starts tearing up the gangplank. Behind him people are running, shouting out something about the Circle. He looks further up the hill to see the amber flickering of fire. Shouts can be heard, the sound of steel on steel and he can see the white flashes of spells being cast. This is all eerily familiar; he turns to shout at Isabella,

"It's happening again, we need to get out of here!"

Isabella stands and starts shouting, immediately shrugging off the effects of the alcohol, "Argo, grab your men, get moving. Sun rises in an hour; your ship needs to be out of the harbour by then. Hawke don't you dare move off this ship it's not your battle this time!"

Everyone puts down their cups, Argo starts shouting names and bodies start moving. Hawke stands with Pawl ready to pull the gangplank up as soon as Argo's crew have left. She can see a man wandering about the dockside, no expression on his face, just walking calmly up and down as others start running past him screaming. He wears circle robes and she realises with a start that he is tranquil. She runs down the gangplank with the other sailors,

Isabella screams at her, "I told you Hawke! You do NOT get off this fucking ship! Get your ass back here right now!"

Hawke hears her, but ignores it as she grabs the man and hauls him onto the gangplank, pulling him up onto the deck.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing Hawke? Who is this bastard?"

Hawke pulls up the gangplank with Pawl before turning breathlessly to Isabella,

"He's tranquil, you know what happens next, the Templars will come running here and will kill any mages they see. The man wears the robes Isabella, that's all they will see, they won't care that he's been made tranquil. If we leave him there he's dead!"

"So what! You bring him on board? Couldn't you just tell him to go and hide somewhere?"

"They would find him Isabella, he doesn't know fear, and he doesn't know how to hide!"

Isabella mutters under her breath, "He's bloody tranquil, probably better off dead." She glares at Hawke, "We don't have the time to argue about this, just sit him in a corner somewhere. We'll drop him off at Llomeryn. You start moving; I need all hands to get this ship out of here in the dark"


	7. Chapter 7

'After Kirkwall – 7'

Everyone is exhausted after getting the two ships out of the harbour of Antiva City in the dark. Hawke and Varania had been called on several times to cast massive force spells as the ships came close to hitting harbour walls, other ships and each other. The light from the emerging flames around the city not enough to light up the docks and light the path they needed to take to get out. Isabella refusing to let Hawke light their way, insisting that as few people as possible should see their leaving, Hawke had been forced into drawing on Fenris, leaving him drained and ready to drop on the deck. Once beyond the harbour, Ativa City receding fast behind them, as the full light of day came up, the two ships were able to run alongside each other allowing Isabella and Argo to holler at each other and check that each was managing. No one looked back. Antiva City was left to its own devices.

As soon as the ships are sailing smoothly, Isabella sends as many as possible for some rest time. She gives the tranquil mage a task to allow someone else to rest and he carries it out without comment. Fenris is already sleeping when Hawke lies down in the bunk beside him and it takes only a few moments, before she drifts off herself.

* * *

><p>She sits at the large wooden table in the farmhouse, trying to read the book in front of her, but the words do not make sense. She has been sitting for what seems like hours trying to decipher this book and still it is beyond her understanding. She scratches her head as a flash of light passes in front of her vision, then another. Her head comes up quickly, trying to see what just passed her eyes. She spies them at the ceiling of the room. Two tiny spots of light, darting and bouncing off the rafters, before they fly off to the window to bounce back and forth off the window pane as she has watched insects do when trying to get out.<p>

Getting up from the chair she follows them, trying to get closer to see what they are, but as she reaches the window they fly off again, making two rounds of her head before going back towards the book,

"Casting spells when you weren't supposed to again girl?" She jumps at the rich deep tones of her father's voice as he comes through the door carrying firewood.

"No! I didn't do this, it must have been Bethany!" she protests.

She hears him sigh, "Bethany's gone, my dear, she couldn't have done this."

Hawke feels the sharp stab of grief run through her heart as realisation dawns on her, "I'm dreaming aren't I?" She turns to him, knowing he is only a vision created by her sleeping mind, but it feels so wonderful to see him in front of her again. It has been a long time since he came into her dreams. He moves to the side of the fire to put down the logs and begins stacking them neatly.

"Maybe you are, but if you're dreaming of me you must need me for something. What's bothering you?"

"It has started in Antiva City. Everyone talks of war coming between the mages and Templars and it's my entire fault." She sits back at the table her head in her hands. "Just like I couldn't save Bethany. Just like I could not save Mother. It's just so much bigger."

He says nothing until he puts the last of the logs on the pile and coming to stand behind her he puts a hand on her shoulder,

"What makes you think what you have done is wrong?"

She sits up and turns round in the chair to look at him, wracked with feelings that she has let him down. "Its war father, if this keeps going many people will die and their blood will be on my hands. I should have done more to make Meredith and Orsino see sense. I should have seen what Anders was going to do and stopped him. I should have forced Elthina out of that bloody Chantry. I should have...stopped it all somehow."

She feels the tears starting at the back of her eyes as her Father looks at her with that old familiar look of quiet understanding. His love for his family had shielded her from the horrors of the outside world for so long. She had forgotten what it felt like to be safe and protected.

"Girl there is nothing you could have changed. You cannot control what other people do. Persuade them, cajole them, talk with them...all these things might make them think about it, but their actions are their own. This is merely the start of something that has been coming for a very long time. How many more people would have died had you done nothing? Sometimes people have to die so that a better way of life can be gained. This is the way of things, Andraste knew this, and it is not your fault. I brought you up as a free mage. In Kirkwall you showed them repeatedly that a free mage need not be the evil incarnate they fear. It is time to stop looking back. There is no more you could have done. You are on a new journey now. I am proud of what you have done. I would like to be proud of what you are going to do."

* * *

><p>Hawke wakes as Fenris tries to get over her to get out of the bunk, banging his head on the wooden bars of the empty bunk above them. "Ow! Sorry, I really tried not to wake you." He says as he looks down at her smiling sleepily up at him, "Kiss me and I'll forgive you." She says wrapping her arms round his neck.<p>

"Sounds like a fair deal." He says rubbing the lump rapidly forming at the back of his head. "Here's another, when we get to Llomeryn, can we find a big bed to sleep in for one night. This space is beginning to feel cramped. Next time Isabella steals a ship, tell her to make you captain, then we could have the big cabin."

"If we had a big cabin, we would never come out of it, that's probably why she'll never make me a captain."

"Oh, you could just leave the door open and shout out your orders. As long as mine include staying in there with you, I wouldn't mind."

There is suddenly a loud rapping on the door, "I can hear you talking, so I know you're awake." Shouts Isabella, "Get up, you have work to do!"

"Damn that woman! I swear I will interrupt her 'alone time' and see how she likes it! A kiss it is then, no more for now. I mean it about that big bed!"

The two ships sail keeping within sight of each other. Isabella stands at the rail watching the other ship, trying not to worry too much about Argo with an untested crew. Knowing he must have chosen well for the ship still to be intact after getting out of that harbour. She feels before she hears the other woman approach her from behind,

"Look Hawke." Isabella indicates a point between the two ships where a grey head pops up between waves. "We have company; he's been following us since we left Antiva City. See that long hair, reminds me of one of the Siren's Call crew. Poor sod, lost his eye, lost his leg, then lost his life, not a good advert for sailing with me." The head pops up again and Hawke can see the animal struggling hard to keep up with the swift movement of the ships. It tries to keep its long snout above the water and she can see the tendrils of its mane spread out on the surface again and again as the head moves up and down.

"Do kelpies often follow ships?" Hawke asks, curious on seeing an animal she has only ever seen pictures of in books.

"Not often. It is taken as a sign of storms ahead. Not really much of a premonition, we will be heading up the Rivain coast, almost guaranteed we will run into a storm there. Hope you're ready for it." Isabella's tone gives away how worried she is. The last storm she encountered lost her a ship and her crew.

"Am I ready?"

Isabella turns from looking at the kelpie, "No one is ever really ready when they hit their first storm. Bad weather tests everyone on a crew. Some will do well, others will not. If we get through it and no one is drowned, I'll consider myself a good captain for having knocked you all into shape and the ship will earn herself a name."

"What about the name the ship has? Why not keep it?"

"New captain, new name, Hawke. I won't call her whatever name that bastard Castillion gave her and I won't give her a new one until she sees us through a storm." Isabella smiles at Hawke, "I like to get to know the character of those I sail with and you never really know it until you've been through the worst, but I'm confident you'll be fine."

Hawke looks around and sees the tranquil mage she rescued and watches for a moment as he coils up ropes as Isabella has asked him to. Leaving Isabella, she decides things are quiet enough to try to find out more about the man she could not leave behind.

"What is your name?" she asks as he finishes his task.

"Harral." He states blandly.

"Tell me about yourself Harral." She says, looking closely at the tall fair haired man. His blue eyes showing nothing of what he is thinking.

"I am Harral, I am tranquil." He says simply, defining himself in six words. Great! Thinks Hawke, getting him to talk is going to be harder than she thought. Why are all tranquil like this? She is going to have to be more careful in how she frames her questions. Looking at the man there is nothing that gives away anything of what the man inside might be or what he might have been with his magical abilities intact.

"Why were you made tranquil Harral?" she asks, hoping the story of how he came to be in his current state might reveal more of the man.

"I loved Templar David." He states flatly, "First Enchanter caught us together and told me to volunteer for the Rite of Tranquillity or he would have Templar David executed. I did not want that to happen."

Hawke knows her knowledge of discipline in the Circle is lacking, but she is sure that the punishment for templars and mages having affairs is not usually so severe. That Harral would sacrifice his magic rather than see his lover die is easy to comprehend, that a First Enchanter would demand this of him is not, unless...

"The First Enchanter wanted you for himself didn't he?" she does not really need to hear Harral's affirmative to know the answer to the question. Hawke feels a part of her screaming with rage inside. This man had been forced into losing his magic or see his lover killed. What kind of monster is this First Enchanter? He had his own magic, he must have been fully aware of what Harral would lose. This was no Templar or chantry priest afraid of what they did not know, ignorant of what they were really telling someone to do and what it would mean. Anders' stories of his time in Ferelden's circle had nothing like this in them, awful as many of them were.

"Why were you at the docks the other night?" she asks sensing the answer to this will reveal even more of Harral's sorry tale.

"First Enchanter Santiago sent me to find the ship captained by a man called Castillion and wait for him. I had not found the vessel and he had not arrived when you put me on your ship." Hawke swallows the twinge of guilt that she feels that she is the reason he was wandering around the docks. He would never have found the man he was sent to look for.

"Why did the First Enchanter send you to wait for him?"

"He said he was leaving Antiva City and I was to go with him." She hears the rich timbre of his deep voice underneath the monotone he answers with and feels sad that she should not hear it with all the normal inflections it would have were he not tranquil, then it registers what the man has just said,

"The First Enchanter was planning to leave Antiva City?" Hawke cannot quite believe she had heard him right. "That means he was planning to leave all the mages he was responsible for! How could he do that? He was leaving just when the mages and Templars started fighting! He must have planned this somehow. "She turns to look at Harral directly, "Why was he leaving Antiva City?"

"Templar David said he was going to make sure he was also made tranquil. Templar David came to see First Enchanter this afternoon. He told First Enchanter he had found the evidence of his illegal trading of lyrium."

Hawke shakes her head. It should not have been a surprise that the First Enchanter was also dealing in illegal lyrium trading. A man willing to wipe out a mages abilities, just so he could take possession of him must also have other underhand hobbies that he did not mind pursuing. A tale of love, jealousy and rivalry, of a man abusing his power, another wanting revenge for his friend, all told completely without emotion by the man at the centre of it all. This poor man had been denied his magic for daring to love a Templar and abused by the man who had taken it all from him. Anders had talked of Templars restricting the freedom mages, had he ever suspected it could also come from within their own ranks?

Her voice catches, feeling for this man where he cannot, "How did the First Enchanter plan to escape."

"When Templar David left, First Enchanter gathered the mages together and told them they should follow the mages of Kirkwall, they shouted their support of his words. He then told me to wait for him at the docks. He said he would follow once the mages had started fighting the Templars."

Hawke feels the anger building in her towards this First Enchanter she has never met ratchet up another few notches. Orsino had been weak in his management of his charges, more concerned in fighting against Meredith; he had forgotten his role as mentor to the mages leaving them without proper guidance. She had only given him support because Meredith had invoked the Rite of Annulment; he had turned to blood magic because he perceived it as the only way out. In many ways Orsino had been a weak man, but he had cared about his Circle mages. Santiago cared nothing for his, cared only for his own needs and desires. This man had incited mages to go against rules that had been in place for centuries, just so he could escape his own web of deceit, not for any grand plan of gaining freedom for mages or escaping the tyranny of a Knight Commander gone mad with power. She did not know if he had managed to escape, but if he had, she was glad to have taken from him the man he planned to take with him.

But what of Harral? Isabella had told her she was responsible for him and she now felt the weight of it. She had brought him on board, possibly against his will, believing she was saving his life. In addition, what of Templar David? If he survived the battle and found out they had Harral with them, would the brokenhearted Templar come chasing after them? She remembered Ander's friend Carl, pleading with them to kill him rather than let him return to his tranquil state. Maybe she should have left Harral to die also; there was no way to know what his true wishes were. Anders and Justice were not here to reconnect Harral with the Fade for the few moments it would take to find out.

"What would you like to do now Harral?" she asks him, wondering if the question has too much emotion implied in it for him to be able to tell her.

He looks at her, his face remaining flat and unmoving, "I would want to have purpose."

It was more of an answer than she expected, "What can you do?"

"At the Circle I worked with lyrium. I can enchant items." Hawke smiles as she thinks of Sandal and how much she misses him and Bhodan. This man is not the same as the childlike dwarf, but he is equally devoid of guile. "I have also read many books. The First Enchanter did not have time to read, that was my purpose when he did not require me for other tasks."

"Would you be willing to work with us on the ship?"

"It would be a purpose." Not sure if he has really answered the question, she pushes him further. "Don't you want to go back to Antiva City and be with the Circle?"

"I would no longer have purpose there. First Enchanter Santiago is dead or has left, until a New First Enchanter is selected, I will have no purpose. That would be wasteful."

Hawke feels a little better about Harral; at least he seems content to stay here. This is the best she can do for him. If only there was a way to give him his magic back. If Anders was here they might have been able to explore possibilities, but Anders was not here and he would probably just tell her it was not possible. A great pity, maybe if she'd had him focusing on trying to reverse the impossible he would not have spent so much time planning to blow up the Chantry and making things impossible for her.

Llomerryn is as different from all the places they have visited so far. No harbour walls or stone docks. Four wooden piers stretch out far from the shore, a small man shouting at them from the longest to direct them into a space where they can berth. Ships of all sizes and styles are anchored up and down the piers. A constant flow of traffic in and out. Many of them flying a flag depicting a white skull, a flash of red paint over the eye sockets.

"What does the flag mean? It looks familiar." Hawke asks as she stands at the wheel, carefully manoeuvring the ship towards the space allocated, Isabella at her shoulder, watching every movement.

"Ah that...yes. I forgot about them."

"What do you mean you forgot about them? What are they?"

Isabella sighs, "'Raiders of the Waking Sea' Hawke. Biggest organised pirate band in Thedas. If you're not with 'em, you're agin 'em."

Hawke narrows her eyes and tries to stare at Isabella whilst not taking her eyes off the wheel, "They wouldn't also be known as just 'Raiders' would they?"

"Oops! You noticed that." If it weren't necessary that she needed both hands on the wheel, Hawke would gladly have strangled the woman.

"Isabella! We saw off a whole pile of those people in and around Kirkwall and what about Martin, your friend the poisons provider? Wasn't he an ex-Raider? Doesn't that put us in the category of 'agin 'em'?"

"You worry too much Hawke. This is my hometown, they love me here. It'll be fine."

"Isabella! You are avoiding the question! If they find out who we are, aren't they going to be just a tiny bit pissed? You have not been here for years and you've been fighting against them all this time. They will need to love you an awful lot to overlook all that."

"Just you concentrate on getting the ship docked properly. I know how to deal with them. Careful, pull her over a little to port side." Hawke adjusts the wheel hoping that she did not see Isabella's face turn pale when she caught a quick glance at her.

"Maker Isabella, I hope you don't mean having 'alone time' with all of them. Have you noticed how many ships fly that flag around here? There must be hundreds of those pirates here. I'm not sure we could stay here for that long."

"Hawke, have a little more faith in me, there are other ways than that to do it...although as a last resort..."

"If there are other ways, would you mind sharing them with me?"

"Just dock the damned ship will you? None of them know who we are, so just keep quiet and everything will be fine!"

Isabella barks out orders to the rest of the crew as the ship nears their mooring point, effectively stopping anything more Hawke might have to say on the matter. Once the ship is berthed, Isabella sends Hamahakis off to find Argo and his crew. Gathering the rest of the crew, she gives orders to Dalan and Garp to stay on the ship for now and advises the rest to take shore leave.

As they walk up the pier, Isabella spots the ships from Rialto and they know Gianna has made it. Llomerryn is a city of wooden buildings built on stilts. The largest ones lining the shorefront, made up of taverns, brothels, homes and warehouses spreading out, becoming smaller and smaller before the buildings at the edges are no more than shacks. As they get closer, they begin to make out wooden pathways like bridges connecting them all, many people running along as they go from place to place. All four piers meet the shore, which is alive with traders and stall holders, the market bustling with people buying and selling, men laughing and grunting as they unload crates from ships. They can hear the rise of voices shouting and calling out, what they are saying getting clearer as they near the shore. Although none of the stalls are as decorated or large as those they saw at the market in Antiva City, the quality of the goods they sell are every bit as good and have come from all over Thedas.

Hamahakis and Argo walk towards the large group as they step off the pier. Hawke sees Argo has changed; the little man walks taller and has started sporting a tricorn hat. His way of indicating his new found status as a ship's captain.

"I need to find Gianna first," says Isabella turning to Hawke, "You, Fenris and Argo come with me. The rest of you, go and have fun and try not to get killed."

Hamahakis immediately grabs Orana's hand and they run off together laughing. Charade looks at Varania and pleads with her to come shopping with her as she had missed out last time. Pawl lumbers off into the nearest tavern, the new crewmembers following behind. This place has no stenches like Rialto, no veneer of serenity like Antiva City. It is lively, loud and chaotic, a bit like Isabella. Hawke sees Harral left standing alone,

"Is there anything you would like to do while we're here?"

The man stands looking blankly at her, "I am not capable of having 'fun'. I would return to the ship and find purpose there."

Hawke feels at a loss, the man seems unable to feel enjoyment in anything. He only gives out a sense of contentment when someone has given him something to do. She knows Isabella will most likely dump him here to find his own way back to the Circle at Diarsmuid. She feels guilty that she cannot seem to do any more for him. Slowly an idea begins to take shape,

"Go round the market Harral; see if you can find any enchanting equipment for sale. Meet me back at the ship once you've found it." The man nods at her and wanders off.

Isabella starts walking towards the largest building on the seafront. As they approach Hawke sees many men and women entering and leaving, most of them wearing armbands with the same skull and red stripe that she had seen on the flags and their clothes are the same style as Isabella. All of them armed to their teeth. She can't help but stare as one man passes them, his ears, nose and mouth covered in piercings. The gold attached to his ears so heavy that his lobes have stretched and reaches down to his jaw line. Gold chains cascade down his chest. He looks back at her, his dark eyes moving up and down, before turning away from her a look of disgust on his face. She looks round to see people looking at all four of them, they look at Isabella with approval, Fenris gets many admiring looks, even Argo gets small nods. It is only when they look at her that their faces grimace and they look away. Isabella sees the look of hurt on her face and laughs at her, "This is Rivain Hawke, piercings and tattoos are a sign of status. You have neither. We could fix that while we are here." Hawke pales a little wondering how much pain she might have to go through just to get people to stop looking at her as if she is no better than the dirt on their shoes, "Let me think about it."

They enter a large room, dark and smoky, filled with people sitting at tables, laughing and drinking. A group of musicians sit with fiddles and accordions, playing a lively tune that carries up to the rafters. Hawke can barely make out several dark corridors leading away and stairs that lead up to a walkway lining the room with more corridors spreading out into the darkness. Isabella speaks with the bar tender and then indicates they should follow her up one of the corridors. Hawke turns to see Fenris talking with a waitress,

"Are there big beds in the rooms here?" The waitress gives him her best sultry smile and sways her hips at him,

"Enough space to accommodate us and a few friends if you wish." Fenris scowls at her and swears under his breath as he leaves her giggling at his back.

The corridor is long with many closed doors on either side, the candles in the wall sconces providing scant light to see where they are going. The noise of the common room fades as they walk along. Isabella leads them to a door at the far end and knocks three times before entering. The wood panelled room furnished only with a square table and benches on all four sides. The only light is from the candle that sits in the centre of the table, the flame wavering as a man wearing the distinctive armband stands and bows at Gianna before moving past them to leave the room.

"Glad you could make it Isabella. I assume your little problems in Antiva City have been resolved." Gianna stands up to clasp Isabella's hands, "Let me introduce Barzal, he is now captain of one of our ships."

They all look towards the dwarf who sits on the bench beside Gianna. Isabella bursts out laughing,

"A dwarf captain of a ship? Gianna, have you taken leave of your senses? Dwarves won't paddle in bathwater let alone captain ships!"

Barzal lets out a long low growl as Gianna grins back at Isabella. "He's quite a find believe me. Why don't you tell your story Barzal?"

Gianna waves at them to sit as the black haired dwarf grunts and coughs, staring at them and pulling at the braided lengths of his beard before giving them his tale.

"Not much to tell. My folks were kicked out of Orzammar for stealing. I had four sisters when we got to the surface; some bastard slaver took them all. Heard they were put on a boat. Became a sailor on many boats, travelled every sea trying to find them. No sign. Gianna says you lot are going to Tevinter. There are a couple of ports I haven't checked there yet. Gianna has known me a long time. Seen me passed over for captain's job many times. The first one not to laugh when I applied for this one."

Gianna smiles at him, "Barzal's been a customer of mine for years. Always came to see me when he landed at Rialto." She tugs gently at his braids, rubbing her nose on his, mindless of the embarrassed rumblings that come from his chest and the redness that rises from his neck and up his whole face."Didn't you dear? What he is not telling you is he is the best navigator in the whole of Thedas. He might be a bit slower to run up rigging than anyone else might, but as captain, he doesn't need to do that anymore. The crew we took on at Rialto laughed as well, but they are not laughing now, they would follow him in to the Feral Fjords if he asked them."

"She's not wrong Isabella ma'am." pipes up Argo, "I worked with Barzal of a time, he's damned good at pricking 'is sword into them what needs it an' all. Nearly as good as elfy boy here." Hawke feels Fenris stiffen at her back, clearly at a loss at how to respond to the insulting compliment.

"Well Barzal, if Argo recommends you, you can't be that bad, but a dwarf as a captain? This I have got to see." Isabella sniggers. "What about the other ship, have you got someone for it?"

"Sorry Isabella, no one in Rialto that Barzal said I could trust. I hired a man to get the ship here, but he's heading back to Gwaren."

"We'll need to see if we can find someone here." Isabella turns to look at Argo, "On the plus side, Antiva City was a successful operation. I've got us another ship and this is the chap that's heading up that one." Argo directs a wide grin at Barzal, who grunts and nods back at him.

"You're turning out to be an even better partner than I thought you'd be Isabella. This venture might actually work if we can get it started." Gianna's face becomes serious as she clasps her hands in front of her. "There is one more problem before we can get it going. I've been negotiating contracts all morning for the ships, but the man you saw leaving was not looking for that kind of deal." She sighs deeply, "A representative of the 'Raiders of the Waking Sea'. It seems if we do not join up with them, they will take the time to make sure every piece of cargo from every ship we have will never make it to its destination. I know that pirate raids might be something you feel you can defend your ship against, but there are the other ships to consider and there is always the chance that they will succeed in carrying out the threat. There are an awful lot of Raiders Isabella. We could lose everything; I don't wish to risk it."

"Bloody Raiders!" Isabella spits, "They've changed since I was last here. Their idea of negotiating skills was 'I'll have that'. There was no 'representative' telling you how he would bash your skull in before he did it! Since when did they get this organised?"

"A Raider named Damian has been one of their principle leaders for many years now. He has them targeting all merchants for protection payment now, not just the wealthy ones. That is why the representative appeared when they heard I was negotiating contracts. I hope you can help. I have enough coin to pay for the refit of the ships, but no more."

Isabella whistles when Gianna tells her how much it will cost, "I'll need a few days. I have some cargo I will need to off load first. I just hope it will be enough."

"There is one more thing Isabella. When we cleaned up those ships, one of the girls found some papers. One of them is the contract they had for the slaves they had to collect. Here, take a look."

Gianna hands her a scroll, which Isabella opens and reads before handing it to Hawke, "Looks like we might be a step closer to finding that buyer you're after."

Hawke reads the scroll with growing revulsion as it details how much coin the slaver will receive for each live child delivered and each dead one, more coin for elven children and the bonus he would receive if he managed to deliver the large amount of children he asked for. One of the names signed at the bottom reads...'Lucarius'."

She hands the scroll to Fenris to read trying to remember when she heard that name before. She is still wracking her brain when Isabella and Gianna finish their meeting. She barely hears Argo tell Isabella he will stay and talk with Barzal if she 'din'nt mind'. When they leave the room, she is distracted, still trying to recall where and when she heard the name. It is not until they reach the entrance to the tavern before it comes to her.

"Orana!" she shouts and promptly bumps into Isabella's back, Isabella having stopped suddenly at the top of the stairs. She looks round her to see a very large crowd of people, all wearing the Raiders armband, in a large semi-circle around the bottom of the stairs. Effectively blocking their passage forward.

A small man steps forward shouting, "That's them! I told you I saw them! They are the ones that did it!"

Fenris turns to Hawke as he reaches for his sword, "Is there anywhere in Thedas we can stop at where we won't have to fight?"

Hawke reaches for her staff, small sparks evidence of the spell she is ready to unleash, but the crowd seems reluctant to come forward, only a few hardy souls even reach for weapons. What kind of pirates are these? The crowd just stares at them. Hawke knows the fighting will probably start if they move forward, but there are an awful lot of them and she is reluctant to start something she might not see the end of this time. She knows the others feel the same as the moments pass without any movement on either side. Then there is movement from the back, she can see the crowd parting as a man walks through with an easy relaxed stride. A tall man, his head shows above the people moving to let him come towards them. As he nears, Hawke sees the near perfect musculature of his dark skinned arms covered completely in tattoos. The muscles on his chest, seen when his bearskin jerkin opens, ripple as he walks, showing off the many more tattoos he has painted there. His short, dark hair and tidily trimmed beard cannot hide the lines of a square jaw line. His deep brown eyes show no concerns as he comes towards them to break through the edge of the crowd and stand in front of them,

"It's been a long time Acantha." He says to Isabella whose daggers have dropped to her sides and is standing with her mouth gaping open.

"Aleksandros?" Isabella whispers.

The man gives small laugh, which Hawke thinks sounds like the rumble of stones falling in a landslide, which might just crush them if they are not careful, "Damian now. You are not the only one who can change their name."

He walks round all three of them, looking each of them up and down, "Interesting friends you've brought along with you." He continues to walk round before coming to a stop in front of Isabella, his large fists placed firmly on his hips.

"So what have you done with my ship?"

Hawke peeps round to look at Isabella who is decidedly un-Isabella like. She is just standing staring at the man, just...breathing. No snark, no laugh, no batting eyelashes, no hip swaying, no chest thrusting. She is standing looking...deflated? Well, her chest certainly looks like it. What is wrong with her? This man is tall, dark, handsome and very muscular, exactly Isabella's type of man. Prime meat for her to use her wily ways to get them out of this sticky situation, yet she stands and does nothing.

"Stuff your ship! What have you done to Isabella?" Hawke cries, forgetting in her shock at Isabella's state that she should not really be aggravating this man.

The man throws back his head and roars with laughter. Some of the crowd joining in with muffled titters. When his laughter fades, Damian turns to the crowd giving broad sweeps of his arms, telling them to move on, there is nothing here he cannot deal with. He looks at Hawke, "You better bring her along and follow me, they will be back if I'm not seen to be dealing with you."

Hawke looks to Fenris who shrugs, "If we go with him there's only one to fight, the odds are a bit better." She takes hold of Isabella's hand and guides her as they follow Damian to a stilted house at the rear of the tavern. He leads them into a sitting room as opulent on the inside as it looked dilapidated on the outside. Indicating they should sit he pulls out a bottle from a cupboard and fills a large glass and puts it in Isabella's hand who gulps down the lot and puts her hand out for a refill. He laughs as he fills it to the brim once more, leaving her to drink more slowly.

Hawke looks up at him, "You called her Acantha."

The big man smiles, "Yes. Yes I did. That was her name when I first met her, a long time ago now." He sits down in a large easy chair opposite Isabella and looks at her the whole time he talks with Hawke and Fenris. "Who'd have thought that at long last she would turn up here?" A look of wonder on his face.

"I was young, perhaps a bit stupid, but when I first saw her, she stole my heart. Dressed in rags she was, no piercings, no tattoos, nothing. A girl at the very lowest level of Llomerryn society. I was among the highest, Llomerryn society being based on your ability to smuggle, cheat, steal and kill. No nobles in this place. My family had a ship as well, so we were well up there. I would have had no trouble claiming this beauty had it not been for my brother. Jealousy is a terrible thing."

The bang of Isabella's empty glass on the arm of the chair, prompts Damian to reach over and fill it up again.

"My brother and I never got on, he was the elder twin and he never let me forget it. Twins we might have been, but two brothers so different in looks and temperament you could not find and he was the eldest. Everything changed when Pa died, my brother inherited the ship, inherited everything, I was left with nothing. Still was not enough for him though, he wanted her as well. Not that he thought anything much of her, just couldn't stand the thought of me having her."

Isabella bangs the empty glass on the arm of her chair again and Damian rises to fill it again, she issues a muffled "Tank yoo" and returns to her drinking.

"Her mother was a right old bitch. Easy for my brother to persuade her to sell her daughter to him. They say it is a marriage contract, but make no mistake, he bought her. A stupid goat and a few coins might not have been much, but back then, I had no way of matching the price. I did not wait for the wedding, and I ran. Went out with the Raiders, smuggled, stole, cheated and killed until I had gathered enough coin to contract a Crow to kill that bastard of a brother of mine. Trouble was when I got back here, expecting to get the ship and the girl, I find she has ran off with it. Broke my heart she did. Nothing else for me to do, but go back to the raiding. I'd hear tales about her, fucking her way through half the men in Thedas, but never ran into her until now."

There is the sound of a tap of Isabella's glass on the side of her chair before she falls to the side unconscious.

"What was that you gave her to drink?" Hawke asks concerned.

"Finest Antivan brandy, what else?"

"Maker, she'll be out cold for hours." She turns to look at Damian, "What plan have you got to deal with us? It might not be as easy as you think, you sent all your friends away."

Damian plants his hands on the arms of his chair to stand up. "I haven't said this in a long time to anyone, but I don't plan to do anything with you. I would rather hear how you came to be here with my long lost love and how the Champion of Kirkwall managed to stop all Raider activities on a large part of the Waking Sea."

Hawke looks at him distraught, "You know who I am?"

"Oh yes Messere Hawke! Although I must admit, it was not until Weasel pointed you out that I pieced it together. Let me just get us all some refreshments and you can fill me in."

Once he has left the room Hawke turns to Fenris and whispers, "You grab her and we'll leave right now!"

Fenris laughs back at her, "No way. I will not be able to fight all those bastards out there with only one hand if they choose to attack us, besides, this Damian is giving away all the little secrets she has hidden from us. I like him, let's stay and see what else he can tell us."

Damian proves a remarkably attentive host and Hawke finds herself letting her guard down and relating their story so far as Isabella drunkenly snores in the background. His easy way and infectious laughter loosens their tongues and Hawke cannot help but like this mountain of a man. He seems to bear them no ill will for having taken out the Raiders around Kirkwall, just laughs as they tell him the story. Fenris relaxes even more after Damian tells him of Hadriana passing through Llomerryn,

"Absolute bitch that woman. Wouldn't pay the fees, fought us all off with blood magic, and captured a good many of the people round here before she left. None of them ever made it back. That's why those folks back there didn't go for you. That cow was the last time they saw magic used here, made them a little wary. Good job on ridding the world of her."

They talk until late and the sky turns dark. "We had better wake her up and get back to the ship." Hawke suggests to Fenris.

Damian puts his hands up to them, "Can't let you do that just yet. If you go out there those guys will just give you a hard time. Give me some time to put out the word that you are all right, that you have done me a great favour and they will leave you alone. Stay here, the bedroom next door is better than anything you'll find in any of the taverns."

Hawke is about to protest about using the man's bed for the night when Fenris stops her, "Is it a big bed?"

Damian laughs, "Sure enough, it's a very big bed. No idea how comfortable it is, I usually end up sleeping in this chair. Being high up in the Raiders is a precarious place to be. There are murmurings that I am getting too soft, too many merchants paying up leaves them fewer to relieve of their wares. Mayhap they are right. It will not be too long before someone puts me out of the game. I will keep watch over this little lady; I would like to talk to her when she wakes up. Might be there's another way out for me."

"You still love her don't you?" says Hawke quietly.

The big man sighs, "Just because they break your heart doesn't mean the lovin' 'em stops, eh?" Hawke glances at Fenris and Damian sees it, "I see you two know all about that. Go and enjoy the big bed."

Hawke wakes in the morning to find herself perched at the edge of the bed and Fenris spread-eagled over the rest of it snoring gently. She cannot remember if there was ever a time when she woke up first or saw him sleep so deeply. She can hear the sound of voices in the other room. Creeping about the room, she gathers her clothes, finds the washroom, and dresses quickly. Creeping back through the room she opens the door a crack to see Isabella and Damian staring back at her.

"Oh for crying out loud Hawke, come through. I won't bite; the hangover's not that bad." Isabella snaps at her. The hangover might not be that bad, but Hawke knows it is not that good either if she is snapping back at her. At least Isabella has found her tongue again and looks more like her normal self.

"Sit down; I'll get you something to eat." Damian rises to leave the room. Hawke cannot believe the man has not slept; he looks as fresh as he did when they first saw him the day before. Hawke sits and looks at Isabella raising an eyebrow.

"Oh don't be smug, it doesn't suit you. I apologise for yesterday. I just never thought I would ever see him again. It's been so long."

"Have you kissed and made up yet?"

"Hawke, don't make fun of me. Not this time. It is too soon. He's changed. I've changed. I don't know." Her eyes plead with her, "I need some time. Is there any way you can give it to me?"

Hawke takes her hand in both of hers, "What do you need me to do?"

"You were there when we spoke to Gianna. Aleks...Damian can keep the Raiders off our backs here in Llomeryn, but there is no option but to pay those bloody fees if we want them to stay away when we leave. Even he cannot do anything about that. Speak to Argo, get him to sell what we have, get the coin. Anything else can wait."

"I'll get it done." She reassures her, "You're going to stay here then?"

"If nothing else, he's an old friend. I owe him. If I had only known it was him that had got that greasy bastard done in... He killed his own brother for me Hawke. The only person who has ever done something that big for me is you. So...yes, I will stay here. We'll see what happens."

"I smell food." Hawke turns to see Fenris standing in the doorway, nothing on but his trousers, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands. Maker, she will have to find a way of getting them a big bed.

Hawke and Fenris leave Damian's house with reassurances that they will not be accosted again, not by Raiders anyway. Hawke finds Argo back at his ship pouring over maps, "Thinking of leaving without us?"

He looks up open mouthed at her, obviously horrified that she would even suggest such a thing, "No, no, no, no, no M'Lady. Could not leave Isabella Ma'am now. She made me Cap'n. Just chekkin' route for next part. Don' wanna be crashing into rocks like. Bad for ship. Need me for sumpin'?"

"Isabella's...busy right now." Argo immediately scrunches up his face and tries to wink at the same time, "Isabella Ma'am's a reg'lar busy lady."

"Not _that_ kind of busy this time. She needs you to do your trading thing, get the coin together for those fees."

Argo blows through his lips while putting his hands at his back, "I'll do my best M'Lady, but I 'eard how much them fees are. Not gon' be easy. Left Antiva too quickly. Not enough stuff on board. Pirates here don' like to pay much for goods, fig'r they can get it for free if they want. Doubt we kin get all of it. Hoped she had other means to make up shortfall. That not all M'Lady. Seere next place we can skip in at after 'ere. Long way if'n we got no supplies."

"Is it really that bad?"

"Absolootly M'Lady. Coin from sellin' will cover supplies only. We got four ships to gear up 'member?"

"Shit!" she rubs her hand over her mouth. "Have you any idea what Isabella does when she needs more coin?"

"Sorry M'Lady, ain't bin runnin' with her that long. Always had enough 'fore now."

"All right. Look, you do the selling and make a list of the supplies we need. I'll find the coin for the fees."

As they head back to the ship, Hawke thinks furiously how she might get more coin to pay the fees. In Kirkwall, they would have taken on mercenary work, but she doubts there is much call for that in Llomerryn. As she walks up the gangplank, Dalan greets her,

"Glad you're back messere, that broken mage you brought on board came back yesterday and has stood there ever since. Said he was waiting for you. Won't do nowt else."

Hawke curses herself for having forgotten all about the man, as she sees him standing beside the door of the Captain's cabin. The man takes no heed of her apologies, just looks at her and waits for her to stop talking.

"You told me to find a trader with enchanting equipment to sell. I have done so; this is the price he asks." He states as he hands her a piece of paper.

She grabs him round the neck and kisses his cheek, "You are brilliant Harral! If this works we'll be able to leave in a few days!"

"Not sure if I like you kissing other men in public Hawke." Fenris frowns at her, "How is this going to help us to leave?"

She grabs his hand and pulls him down the stairs towards their cabin, "They boast that you can buy anything you could ever wish for here at Llomerryn. What is the one thing you cannot get?... Enchantment!" she stops before opening the door, "And we've brought with us the only means of getting it done, without having to travel for days."

She enters the cabin to go down on her hands and knees to pull out the lockbox Varric had given her from under the bunk where she had asked Carver to put it.

"It might not be a good idea to have Raiders using enchanted weapons. If we have to fight them again it wouldn't be as easy." Fenris points out as she sits on the bunk ready to open the lockbox.

"If we get the coin for the fees, we won't have to fight them; we'll be Raiders as well. It also sort of makes things up to Damian for the ones we took out at Kirkwall." He sits on the bunk beside her,

"I thought Isabella's business venture meant we would no longer be pirates?"

She smiles back at him, her eyes twinkling, "Doesn't look like it. Isn't it fun?"

He shakes his head, "You had better be right."

"Are you ready to open the box?" she looks at him expectantly.

"What do you mean? It's just a box." He looks at her puzzled as to why she hesitates to undo the lock and why she is asking him if it is all right.

"This is not any old box Fenris! This is _our_ box. This is all the coin we have. I have no idea how much is in it. I never looked. I just hope there's enough to get the equipment for Harral."

The puzzled look does not leave Fenris' face, "I still don't understand what you're talking about, what is it with the box!"

Hawke sighs and puts her hand to his cheek, "You married me, and everything I own is now yours. Whatever is in that box belongs to you as well as me. Our future is in that box. I had thought we would keep it to help set us up a home when we stopped running around Thedas. I'm asking you if you are all right with us using it for this?"

Fenris sits stunned. He has never owned anything except for the clothes on his back and his sword. Any coin he ever had, left his hands as quickly as he found it in them. He had never thought that he would have any say in his future, content to follow Hawke and whatever she was doing. Coin put aside for a future was a strange concept to him; he struggled to stay in the present most of the time. Unsure of his feelings other than reassured that Hawke planned a future with him in it, he nods his head, "Go ahead, and open it. I don't suppose we'll have a future beyond this place if we don't find some way to pay those fees."

Hawke takes a deep breath before opening up the wooden chest, hoping that there is enough to get them out of this. Both of them gasp as the lid thuds back on its hinges.

"Maker! Varric told me I was still a wealthy woman, but I never thought there would be this much." She puts her hands in the box letting gold coins fall through her fingers. She unfolds the letter attached to the lid and smiles on seeing Varric's handwriting,

"_Sorry this is all I could get for you on such short notice, friend. If you are ever back in Kirkwall, look me up for the rest. Tell Broody he can close his mouth now._

_ Varric."_

"Damn how I miss that dwarf!" Hawke says wiping her eyes. Fenris puts his arms around her surprised himself at how much he had come to count on Varric as his own friend.

"Come on, take what you need and let's see how much Harral can do with it. At least we know paying those fees won't be a problem if he doesn't make it."

Any fears that Harral would not make enough for them are gone after the first hour. They went back to the vendor, got Harral his equipment, and set it on a table at a small space in the market. It took only minutes after his first customer for word to get round and a crowd to develop around them. Each of them carrying boxes, bags and lumps of smuggled lyrium for Harral to do his work. Fenris standing at his back looking menacing at those who would try to push their way forward in their desperation to have their weapons and armour enchanted.

Hawke watches enthralled as Harral quietly and efficiently enchants everything placed in front of him. The amount of lyrium that is now on display testimony to how little control the Chantry has over the trade. Fenris has to shout over the crowd that they will return the next day, when it becomes clear that Harral is exhausted and needs to rest, although no word of protest has passed his lips. Varania comes to stand beside her,

"The smith just asked if Harral can set up next to him tomorrow. Says he will sell even more weapons if he is standing next to him. My brother has said he wants to know more about smithing since he started bashing about with hammers on the ship. I told the man if he let him work with him for a couple of days we would do it. Do you think he would mind?"

Hawke watches Fenris chasing away the last of the crowd, "I think he would like that a lot. I know he enjoys repairing the weapons on board and gets frustrated when he cannot get it right. I think he would like learning a few secrets from a proper smith." She turns to Varania, "An interesting gift for him, have I missed his birthday?"

Varania gives a small sigh, "Slaves don't have birthdays." Hawke frowns wondering if she has hurt or offended the elf woman by reminding her of her slave beginnings.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean..."

"Don't be sorry Hawke. You were not the one who enslaved us. I just thought my brother might find it useful."

The next day sees them reach their target and go beyond it. The crowd around Harral never seems to go down, as people leave, more people arrive, fights breaking out occasionally in their desperation to get to the front. The smith swaps one of his own apprentices with Fenris to watch over Harral. Hawke spends the morning watching them from the side. Fenris looks as he did when she was teaching him to read, concentrating hard, listening to every word the little dwarf says. Frowning when he does not understand something, smiling when he does. Varania had been right to arrange this. She had not appreciated how much he enjoyed learning something new. Killing Danarius had only been another step on his way to finding what being free meant. Watching him, she understood more about what being a slave truly meant.

That was when she remembered she wanted to talk to Orana. So caught up in what was happening with Isabella and Harral she had forgotten about the name on the contract for the child slaves. Leaving Fenris and Harral to continue what they were doing she heads back to the ship, hoping she will find her there. Pawl is swabbing the deck when she arrives, having returned to let Dalan and Garp get some onshore time.

"Have you seen Orana?" she asks. He just nods and continues his work without raising his head.

"Is she on board?", again, he nods and continues sweeping the mop back and forth.

"Where is she?" The sweeping stops and he looks at her before raising his head to the crow's nest. Hawke follows his gaze and realizes she should have known all along. Putting her hands to her mouth, she calls up. "Orana?"

The elf woman's head appears over the rim of the nest quickly followed by Hamahakis, both of them hair tousled and looking decidedly flushed. Hawke laughs up at them and asks Orana to come down when she is ready.

Looking back at Pawl who gives her a small grin before returning to his sweeping, she shakes her head. Fenris might complain about the small bunk, but it has to be better than that place. How did they manage?...Up there?... No, she does not want to think about it. Getting some privacy on a ship was hard. She is impressed by their creativity and their lack of vertigo.

Orana comes to stand beside her at the rail, her head bowed and hands clasped in front of her,

"I'm sorry mistress, it won't happen again." She whispers. Hawke is shocked by seeing once again how quickly ex-slaves return to passivity when they think they have done something wrong. She had thought Orana was beginning to come out of her shell when she chided them any time one of them messed up the clean ship. How hard it must be to break away from other people controlling your life.

Hawke stands with her arms folded looking curiously at Orana's bowed head, "That would not be a good thing. If you want it to happen again, you go ahead. I'm sure Hamahakis would be deeply disappointed if he thought it was to stop."

Orana lifts her head in surprise, "Really? You're not angry with me?"

Hawke smiles, "Why should I be angry? You two have really been quite inventive. Isabella will probably ask you for tips now."

Orana's lets out a sigh of relief. While her cheeks flare red.

"I'm sorry I disturbed you, but there is something I wanted to ask you. At the wedding, when you asked that we find your Poppa, you said that a man called Lucarius would be his master now. Who is he?"

Orana blinks at her, "I don't know who he is. Hamahakis was the one who told me. Maybe he would know." She turns towards the man who is standing at the prow of the ship, trying to look nonchalant. He jumps when Orana calls him over and looks to Hawke as if he is rehearsing apologies in his head, but squaring his shoulders as if ready to fight his corner with Hawke. He visibly relaxes as Orana explains.

"I never met him. I only ever heard the name mentioned once. Danarius took me with him when he signed papers. I heard them say that Lucarius would take over if Danarius died. That's how I knew he would be the Master now."

There is no more information that Orana or Hamahakis can tell her about Lucarius, but a connection has been made between Danarius and the child slaves. Can the man still be causing so much horror from beyond the veil? Fenris can tell her nothing when she asks him on his return to the ship with Harral. It is Varania who is able to give her another grain of information.

"Hadriana mentioned the name once before she left for Kirkwall. She said when she returned she was going to challenge him in the arena. She said that Danarius would have to take more notice of her then."

"Challenge him in the arena? What does that mean?" Hawke asks.

Fenris is the one who answers, "Magisters challenge each other to duels. The duels take place in the Circle and all the other magisters gather to watch. It is quite an event. Sometimes the Archon will attend. They place bets on what spell will end the contest. The winner will claim everything the loser owns so they are rare. Mostly magisters with nothing will challenge ones who have much. Senior magisters relish these challenges as a means to show off their prowess. A junior magister stands to gain a lot if they win, but that rarely happens. Danarius was challenged once when I was with him. It did not last long. He killed him with his first casting."

"So these are duels to the death?"

"Always."

Hawke feels her skin crawl. Magisters fighting each other and it was looked on as sport. A day's pleasure outing to watch mages kill each other. Most spells were defensive, shields, sleep, healing. The few offensive ones seldom killed outright. Danarius must have been more powerful than she thought, or the mage who fought him was uncommonly weak. Left to fight him in the 'Hanged Man' alone, would she have stood a chance? It was Fenris who killed him, not her. She and Anders together had merely weakened him so that he could. The man had sent wave after wave of demons and walking corpses at them, if Varric and Isabella had not been there to help out, would they ever have walked out of the 'Hanged Man' again? The thought of the arena sends slivers of fear and doubt through her. Always her friends had been with her when caught up in these confrontations. If she had to face an adversary like Danarius on her own...She turns from the dark thoughts. These are the situations which could force her to blood magic and that is unbearable.

"Did Danarius ever mention having children, an heir?"

"No, but I heard talk that he had a wife living in one of his remote estates. It's likely this Lucarius is his son, but he never spoke of him in my hearing."

"Danarius had a wife?" Hawke exclaims.

Fenris laughs grimly at her, "Magisters marry too, though seldom for more than status or a seat on the senate. Providing legitimate heirs may be the only other reason. Lucarius may be the product of their liaison."

"If that is so, Danarius must have been signing his will when Hamahakis saw him. Hadriana must have known and for some reason thought she could be made heir if she killed him, but you got to her first." Hawke sighs, knowing there is little to be gained by speculating. "If this Lucarius is Danarius' son, then it seems he is as big a monster as his father."

"He may be worse Hawke, Danarius never put out a contract for child slaves."

The next few days sees the crowds around Harral begin to diminish at last. Fenris persuades the smith to spend more time with him. Varania starts measuring them all up for new clothes. Hawke sends Orana and Hamahakis to a tavern to spend time together in a less lofty setting. Argo and Barzal team up and start finding the crew they need for the ships. Argo gives Hawke a list of supplies that they need and she learns why Argo enjoys the haggling so much. Charade turns up covered in piercings and tattoos, barely recognisable, sporting clothing that Hawke thinks is far too close to Isabella's style and decides she does not want to know how she got the coin for it all. Hawke meets with Gianna who tells her the ships are ready and the Raider's fees are paid.

There is nothing left to do. They can leave Llomerryn. It is time to go back to Damian's home and see Isabella. Hawke thinks she has done well to give Isabella the time she asked for and hopes it has been enough. Just as she is about to leave to go and find her Isabella appears, striding up the gangplank, Damian at her back and issuing orders to crew as she comes. She is not smiling and Hawke wonders if she might still be suffering a hangover, or at least bearing the brunt of a new one. Hawke feels deflated; she has not worked this hard over the last few days so that Isabella could lose herself at the bottom of a bottle and resolve nothing with her old friend. Damian looks serious as well, what have the pair of them been up to that they look this grim? She had thought that when she saw them next they would at least have smiles on their faces. Isabella snaps her fingers at Hawke and Fenris and indicates without a word that they should follow her and Damian into the captain's cabin.

Isabella stands with her arms folded as they come in and demands Hawke report to her on how things stand with the ships. Hawke looks at her curiously, Isabella is never this...angry? She knows her friend gets pissed off, but she has never seen her this curt with her words or downright rude to her. She starts relaying quietly to Isabella all they have done since she last saw her. Isabella nods at each update Hawke gives, but there is no indication whether she is pleased or not, happy or unhappy, approving or otherwise. Hawke feels her anxiety rise when she sees the telltale glow from Fenris' tattoos begin to appear. She finishes her report to Isabella who gives a harrumph as acknowledgement of her having finished.

Isabella stays still and quiet for a few moments before abruptly informing them,

"Good, all I have to do is check on the crew Argo and Barzal have got. Damian will captain the fourth ship. We leave tomorrow."

Fenris can take no more, "You absolute bitch! Hawke should be the one you make Captain! She is the one who has been running around doing all the things you should have been doing! You have not seen this man in years! Is this a reward for having fucked you senseless in the last few days?"

Hawke puts her hand on Fenris' forearm, "It's all right, and I don't want to be a captain." He turns towards her, his tattoos clearly glowing now.

"Makes no fucking difference Hawke! That ungrateful bitch has used you for the last time! I warned her I wasn't as forgiving as you!" he turns back to Isabella, "What is wrong with you? This is your friend and you can't even say thank you!"

"I told you, you weren't ready." Damian says quietly as he looks at Isabella.

Isabella's eyes close as she puts her head back to face the ceiling of the cabin, she clenches her fists and screams so loud that Hawke is sure the whole of Llomerryn hears her cry. "THIS BASTARD WON'T HAVE SEX WITH ME!"

Fenris' tattoos suddenly stop glowing as surprise replaces his anger and there is a moment of complete and utter silence before Hawke bursts out laughing. "Oh Damian, I thought you two wanted time to get to know each other again. Did you have to go and break her?" she sits down holding her sides, still laughing and wiping tears from her eyes.

"It's not funny!" Isabella cries. "This is the longest I've ever gone without something warm between my legs! And what is your problem elf? You know damn fine Hawke's not ready to be Captain of a ship?"

Hawke shakes as another burst of laughter escapes her, "He knows Isabella. He just wants the big bed!"

Isabella glares at her as Hawke struggles to get her laughter under control. Fenris flushes and Damian loses his grim facade as he stifles his own laughter that is threatening to burst from him.

Isabella sits and gathers in her frustration, "I'm sorry Hawke. Fenris is right. You have done everything right, better than I deserve. I'm angry at him," she nods at Damian, "and I'm angry at myself. Let's start again."

"Oh no Isabella, you don't get out of it that easy," Hawke looks up at Damian, still trying not to laugh, "Explain yourself Ser, this does seem unusually cruel. You can see she is suffering. Why would you deny her and yourself?"

The man chuckles, "It is a hard task indeed Messere Hawke, I won't let her near me until she admits that she loves me. It is possible that whilst very good at sex, Isabella will never learn about love. I will not go near her without it. I have agreed however to follow her where she goes until she does. It might take some time."

"You're leaving the Raiders?" There is no further need to try and control giggles as incredulity takes its place.

"No, I'll always be a Raider, just not one of the leaders any more. Gave them a bit of a shock. Leaders normally only leave because they have stopped breathing. I've decided I like breathing." Hawke's eyes widen, curious as to what has passed between these two and wonders if finally they have met the man up to the task of taming Isabella.

"So all you have to do is tell the man you love him?" Hawke looks directly at Isabella, wondering why she will not do what she needs to do and scratch her itch immediately.

Isabella bows her head. "I've never told anyone I love them. My mother sold me, married me to a beast of a man and the man I thought loved me ran away. I have 'issues' with it. I am not sure I know what it is. I refuse to say it until I'm sure."

"But you're happy to have this man follow you wherever you go. Won't your 'alone time' upset him? That would be unusually cruel of you."

Isabella mumbles something, but Hawke cannot quite make out what she has said and asks her to repeat it,

"I've agreed to give up 'alone time'." She says speaking more clearly, but very quietly.

Any laughs, giggles or titters that might have been left in Hawke flee when she registers what Isabella has just said.

"Did you just say what I think you said?"

"Yes I did Hawke now leave it be. I'm not repeating it again."

"Tell me if I've got this right. You," she says looking at Damian, "are willing to give up all you've achieved with the Raiders to follow Isabella who might never tell you she loves you. While you," indicating Isabella," are giving up sex for Damian and you might never be able to tell him you love him and so never have sex again?"

Isabella looks at Hawke, the water of unshed tears building up in her eyes, "I thought you of all people would understand this Hawke. You waited for Fenris for years, never knowing if the hate that choked him up would ever go. We were not blind Hawke, watching you two skirt round each other was painful. Give us the same respect we all gave you."

"Anders never did." Fenris spits out.

Isabella looks at him pitifully, "You are such a stupid bastard sometimes elf. Anders backed off. If he picked at you it was with the shards of his own broken heart." She shakes her head, "All I'm asking is that you let me see if I can mend mine."

Hawke stands up, accepting that her friend has taken an unexpected turn in her life, "Take all the time you want Isabella, if this is how you want to do it, who am I to say different? But please, do not make it any longer than it has to be, you are too cranky. The boys are going to be very disappointed at the loss of time spent with their Captain; they might not tolerate her being too much of a bitch as well. Damian, I hope you know what you're doing, I'm not sure I like Isabella without her wily ways."

"My wily ways are still intact! He does not stand a chance Hawke; he will give in long before I do. When he does, there is always his cabin. What do you say Grumpy? Have the big bed here if it means that much to you. I won't be needing it."

Fenris closes his eyes and sends a silent thank you to whatever Gods might be out there to hear it.

Hawke smiles as she sees Isabella pick up her usual stance, hands on hips and chest thrust out. The changes the last few days have made in her more subtle and only those who have known her a long time would be able to spot them.

"All right then. I am going to see what reprobates Argo and Barzal have collected and what contracts Gianna has negotiated. If you could show our latest Captain to his ship, Hawke, I would appreciate it. Fenris, I strongly advise you to get clean bed linen from Orana before you try out your new sleeping quarters." Isabella marches out swaying her hips and deliberately rubbing her body against Damian as she passes. He closes his eyes and it is clear he wonders himself how long he can hold out. Isabella's wily ways are definitely still intact.

The sun is setting over Llomerryn when Isabella returns, a small elven boy in tow.

"Remember him Hawke?"

Hawke looks at the boy, scrawny even by elf standards. At first glance, she has no idea who he might be, then as he looks up at her his eyes widening, she remembers his hair brushing against her neck and the warmth of his tears as they fell on her skin.

"Gianna's grandson?" For all the boy is whippet thin, he looks healthy. She must have poured more healing into him than she thought, as there are no sign of the scars that she was sure he would bear on his limbs for the rest of his life. The boy steps forward to throw his arms round her legs and clings on to her. Hawke looks down and her hand gently touches his hair feeling the difference now it is clean and not matted and stuck slick to his skull.

"Gianna has asked that I take him on as a cabin boy along with two others for the rest of the ships. I did not refuse her. He is the reason Gianna wants to do this. A pretty good one I think."

"Isn't he a bit young to be leaving home for a life at sea?" Hawke asks looking at the boy who seems unwilling to let go of her.

"Rialto is an unforgiving place. Gianna says the Crows were eyeing him up already. She thinks his chances of survival are better with us. She wants him to learn everything from the bottom up."

Hawke kneels down, gently unwrapping his arms from her legs, "What's your name?"

The boy slowly lifts his eyes to look at her face, taking time to overcome his awe at seeing once again the woman who lifted him out of hell. "Alano." He whispers as if afraid that making the sound will make her disappear. There may be no scars on the outside, but this boy still has many hurts on the inside from his experience in Rialto.

"Reminds me of a boy I once knew." Varania says as she comes to stand behind Hawke, "Let me take him, I'll show him round and get him a comfortable spot to sleep in."

"Not before I get him something to eat, he looks half starved." Orana joins in.

"You've not to spoil him! He's here to work." Isabella shouts as the two elven women each take one of the boy's hands leading him to the galley. All three look back at her and Hawke knows in that instant that Isabella will not win this battle. The boy will be lost to the coddling they will give him. As they move down the stairs, the boy still staring back, Hawke warms at the thought that his experience of being on this ship will be so much better than his last.

"Harral could teach him his letters." Hawke states tentatively, knowing if Isabella agrees then Harral might be allowed to stay with them.

Isabella shakes her head in resignation, aware that for the moment, nothing is going to go the way she wishes, "I'm tired Hawke. If you think he should stay, then he can stay. He has helped us out; maybe he has earned his place with us. I just find him really creepy. I have always hated seeing tranquils, they always seem to me like people with all the fun sucked out of them. Sex with them is very...mechanical."

"You didn't! Oh Isabella, that is a new low even for you."

Isabella shrugs, "I was curious, Harral was there. He didn't say no."

"I'm not sure that he can. Are you sure that you can?"

Isabella looks at her frankly, "Not sure at all Hawke, but I am sure that I won't be going near Harral again. Curiosity definitely sated on that point. Tranquil sex is far too...tranquil. Well friend, since I now have time to do other things, how about we go for a drink?"

Hawke hesitates to answer, glancing at the door to the cabin, "I think Fenris has other plans."

"Oh you cow! Just rub it in and in my own dear, sweet shag shelter as well! This whole denial thing is going to be so much harder than I thought."

Hawke smirks at her, "You could always go over and tell the man you love him and put an end to all this self inflicted torture."

"Tempting, but for once in my life I think I'd like to do something right and not dive in with my legs wide open."

Both of them startle when from the pier a voice shouts out, "We'll get you now that the big bastard is out of the way!"

Looking over the rail, the man Damian called Weasel stands with a group of determined looking individuals all armed and desperate for a fight. Hawke casually takes hold of her staff and aims the largest sleep spell she can muster towards them. To a man, they all fall down with the sounds of various thumps and cracking of heads on the wood.

"Why did you do that Hawke? That was my plan B for alternative entertainment this evening."

"Thought it might be nice for Fenris to have one place he can leave without having killed someone. Why? Afraid your blades will rust up as well as your..."

"Hawke! Fighting, fornicating and falling down drunk are my favourite pastimes; you have managed to put a stop to all three! Go snuggle up with 'not quite so broody as he was boy' and leave me to wallow in my misery without your cutting observations."

"Is that an order Captain?"

"Yes minion! Off you go, I will see these guys get home safely once they have had their beauty sleep. With luck they will object and the evening won't be a complete loss."


	8. Chapter 8

'After Kirkwall – 8'

Her feet dangle in the stream in the forest of her dream. The cool of the water as it passes massages her feet and she sighs at the peace and quiet offered in this place. She tilts back her head to bask in the warmth of the sun that filters through the trees. The two small sparks of light that have haunted her dreams since they left Antiva City are still there. She has stopped trying to look closer at them or catch them, easier to let them explore and try and to catch glimpses in their occasional revolutions round her head. It is some time before she is aware of the feeling that something is not right, a slight jarring at the edge of her awareness. She tries to remember when she had this kind of feeling before and it is some time before the memories return of when demons used to come here, but it feels different as well. Demons in her dream have held no fear for her in a long time. She pulls her feet from the water and walks through the trees barefoot towards where she knows the courtyard and library are, the lights chasing each other at her back. Her senses draw her eyes through the library windows and she can see two shimmering lights at the archway.

Moving towards the archway, she sees the shimmering begin to coalesce into male and female human forms. The male form wears shining silver mage robes, matching his long silver hair and beard. The clearest, bluest sharpest eyes she has ever seen appear to stare at her. The female form wears silver armour, hard to look at with the sun reflecting from it and she has to put her hand up to shield her eyes. A white cape billows out from her shoulders, yet there is no wind. She glides slightly towards the male looking at him with effortless ease, before turning her head to Hawke. Neither of them speaks, just watching.

Hawke looks at them as they look back unblinking. These are not demons, is it possible they are spirits? Her father had told her of Spirits who sometimes watch over mortals and may help them, but he said they were rarely found and that they have to be summoned. She knows she has summoned nothing. The only spirit she is aware of meeting before was Justice in the fade, but he still inhabited Anders frame, she does not know what they look like when they are not using the space available in a living body. Demons she knows will take the form of any familiar image in your head, all the better to deceive you with, but when not claiming part of your memory they look distorted and generally disgusting and easy to spot. These two are definitely not disgusting or distorted, they are strangely attractive, but she feels no drawing on her will.

She takes a tentative step towards them, then another when they stay where they are and do not move, but continue to watch her. "Who are you and why are you in my dream?"

The spirits look at each other as if checking with each other whether they should give an answer or not. There is a slight waver in the aura surrounding them before they both speak in unison and their voices sound as if they come from a great distance,

"It is of no matter to you who we are. We are here because we are here." Their voices echo around the forest where there should be no echo.

"But you stand in _my_ dream. What do you want?" she asks them, beginning to feel annoyed that they should invade her sanctuary with no explanation.

"Nothing from you." They reply and stare directly at her once they have spoken. Hawke feels frustration and anger build up in her. The answers they give tell her nothing. This is her place; they have no right to be here if they do not want her.

"Why are you here?" There is a sound like a great breathe being inhaled as they again answer in unison, "We wait." Again, the answer is no answer at all.

"What do you wait for?" she persists, feeling more and more that this is like talking with Harral, no emotions being shown and her questions leading nowhere.

"What has begun." The shimmering wavers again and their gaze turns away from her as if they have had enough of this mortal. "Ask no more. We will wait here until it is time."

The forms waver and their shapes dissipate, returning them to patches of light.

Hawke tries asking more questions, tries shouting questions, but receives no response. Nothing she says elicits any change. Spells cast have no effect, just bouncing off the shields that are present around them. She stares at the patches until her eyes hurt from the glare and she has to turn away.

As she walks back the way she came, she glances back, but each time she does there has been no movement, the patches of light stay exactly where they were as if guarding the archway. Hawke knows that Demons are malicious, jealous of mortals, eager to tempt them into allowing them to enter them so they can explore their world. These two have done nothing, no move to attack her, no honeyed words of how they can fulfil her dreams, make her more than she is. They seem only to want to inhabit her dream. Why would they do this? How long will they stay? If they do not want anything from her why did they even talk to her? Why don't they just shimmer off somewhere else?

More of her father's words come to her, "Spirits are the Maker's First children. Mages may seek out a Spirit to enhance their abilities, but this can attract demons to them. Mages with help from a spirit need to be very strong indeed not to be tempted by those demons. Not all of them are able to be that strong. The Circle watches those mages closely, ready to kill them should they succumb." Does this mean more demons will come here again? How many more demons will come when there are two spirits? She is not watched over by other more experienced mages, will she be strong enough to fight them on her own? Why are they here if they are not to help her? Her experience of spirits is limited to Justice who did not seem to like her too much and she knew Anders had been changed by his presence, changed enough to commit mass murder. Anders had never spoken of feelings of warmth, strength and protection that the mages her father knew had talked about. Worry and unease worm their way into her thoughts. The place she felt she could come to in her sleep no longer feels like the sanctuary it once was.

* * *

><p>Hawke wakes without the feeling of being rested and ready for the new day that she is used to. Her mouth is dry and she feels nausea wash over her, a slight headache niggles at her, a dull throbbing at the back of her skull. Opening her eyes, she sees Fenris at her side, one arm holding up his head as he stares down at her,<p>

"What's wrong?" he asks concern clear in his voice, "You have not slept well. You used magic in your dreams. I felt it. Have demons been bothering you?"

The feeling of unease in her dream has not left her and irritable at feeling unwell she snaps back at him, "If you had been in my dream you would know!"

Fenris sighs deeply and sits up to put his head in his hands as his elbows rest on his knees. Hawke instantly regrets her outburst. Sitting up herself, she leans into his back resting her head at the back of his neck, "I'm sorry. Since Antiva you have not been there and I miss you."

Hawke puts her arms around his waist pulling him closer, wanting to feel his warmth and let him feel her need of him. Annoyed at herself she releases some healing, hoping that it will relieve the headache and at least take away some of this waspish stinging to her tongue before she says anything else she will regret. He sits quiet before a hand comes to stroke her forearm. The stroking continues as he gathers his thoughts before speaking.

"Since Antiva I have fought my own demons. Every night they come and every night I defeat them." He swallows before continuing, his voice low and steady. "I would not have you in my nightmares again, I lived these experiences, you do not have to, but if you had not come that first time I'm not sure I would ever have come to deal with them." His arm reaches round and he turns himself and pulls her round so he can see her face, frown lines furrowing his brow, he looks at her.

"When these rings went on and I found I could hide in your dreams, I felt safe for the first time in my life. To relieve me of those nocturnal terrors was something amazing and wonderful. I felt peace there I had never known before. In Antiva, to find myself thrust back into it was all the more painful for having been without the nightmares for a time. You came to me, saw my weakness, my humiliation and my shame, and turned it. I thought if you ever truly knew what had been done to me, you would run and never look back or look at me with a pity in your eyes I could not bear. You did neither.

I do not want to be that broken, weak, unthinking slave I was then, but that part of me will always be there. Hiding in your dreams, I deceived myself that he was gone, but he will never be gone. I hated him with a fierceness that made me want to cut him out of my life and cast him aside. Antiva made me realise that the only way that I can do that is to die. He is part of me and I have to accept him. The only way I can do that is to return to those memories and give him the strength I have now. You showed me how.

When you look at me, I see the man I could be. I want to be that man. Locking these memories in the dungeons of my dream is how I can get there. Every night more come, every night I defeat them, every night I return to my dream and the dungeons fill. Every night I get closer to being that man.

I love you Hawke. That you could return it is still a source of wonder to me after all I have done. If I have not been in your dream, it is only because in dealing with my own I begin to feel worthy of that love."

He looks in her eyes and sees the he can see she has never thought him unworthy. Her arms reach round his neck and she gently pulls his face towards her to kiss him. Her lips soft and full. He can feel her fingers winding in the hair at the back of his head, bringing him closer again to press his mouth harder to hers and parting her lips to let her tongue taste his. He brings his own hand to the back of her head feeling the soft tendrils of hair at the nape of her neck, his other reaches down, caressing the smooth skin to the small of her back, to pull her body in closer. He wants to feel the full length of the warmth that was at his back now cover his front. She lifts her leg to shift her body onto his lap and the warmth comes as every inch of her torso meets with his.

"I need to do this on my own. Do you understand?" he asks holding her face in his hands. Of course she understands. Doesn't she always? There is nothing she would not do for this man if he asked, but he does not ask. He says he needs to do this for himself. He does not want or need her help. Distracting him from this to deal with threats that have not appeared for her would be cruel.

"Yes I understand. But you understand this also, if you need me, you find me. I won't lose you because your pride won't let you ask for help when you do need it."

"I promise." He smiles at her. Their arms wrap up each other, heads nestling on shoulders and becoming aware of needs in the physical world that are easy to address.

* * *

><p>It had taken longer than Isabella wished before they left Llomerryn. Gianna had managed enough contracts to last them all the way to Minrathous and loading the crates had taken time to organise between the four ships. Damian had insisted he select crew for the ship he was to captain and it had taken time to sort them all out. Harral had agreed to teach Alano his letters and quietly consented when Orana, Varania and Hamahakis had asked if he would teach them also. Hawke had gone with him in his search for teaching materials and been amazed to find Llomerryn catered well for the more scholarly amongst its people, not that there were many in that lawless, chaotic city, but books they valued and had enough for trade that a Circle library could have been created and been proud of its collection.<p>

There had been no more nocturnal visits from stalkers wishing to end their existence and so Llomerryn was left behind. The four ships sailing close enough together to keep within hailing distance of each other as they travelled north along the Rivain coast to Seere.

For days, they sailed with no other problem than Pawl grazing his fingers as they pulled in a net when trawling for fresh fish. Harral gave his lessons every day, Fenris repaired all the weapons and metal they required, Hamahakis and Charade replaced and secured all the ropes and rigging. Hawke spent much of her time with Varania, the two of them blending magic and trying out new spells, working hard in perfecting their ability to work in unison. Dalan and Garp showed the new crewmembers round the ship and they proved capable sailors, so Hawke assumed Isabella's constant checking and pushing them to perfect all the ship chores was her adjusting to her newfound celibate state. It was not until she screeched at Alano for getting a knot wrong, that she felt something needed to be said.

"Shouting at the boy won't make him learn better Isabella. You were more patient with me when I first came aboard and I still have trouble with some of those damned knots. Why so hard on him?"

Isabella grabs her arm and leads her to the rail, "Look out there, what do you see?" Hawke looks out at the sea. The blue is unbroken all the way to the horizon. The waves nearest them are choppy, only reflecting the good wind that is behind them. There are only a few white puffs of cloud high in the sky scudding along. Hawke knows her knowledge of how to tell what the weather is going to do is minimal, but even she knows there is nothing bad to see out towards the ocean.

"I don't see anything wrong." Hawke tells her and waits for Isabella to point out what she should have noticed. Isabella says nothing and drags her to the other side of the ship.

"What do you see at this side?" she asks pointing out over the waves where Hawke can just see the ribbon of coastline, which recedes to the line of mountains inshore. Again, there is nothing, no dark band of cloud at the top of the mountains. The unbroken blue of the sky reaches back as far as the eye can see.

"I still don't see anything wrong."

"Exactly. There is nothing to see Hawke; everything looks good for sailing for another few days. There is no reason why I should be worried, but my seer sense is rattling. It gets worse with every league of ocean we cover. There is a big storm coming, I know it and our friend out there agrees with me."

Hawke checks where Isabella indicates and sees the kelpie is still following them. It seems to nod in acknowledgement to her as she follows its progress beside them.

"I thought you said we were guaranteed to run into a storm coming up this coast, you sounded like you wanted it. You said it would test us and you could name the ship afterwards."

"Normally that's exactly what I would want, but this feels like a big storm Hawke. Bigger than the one that grounded me and the Qunari in Kirkwall. My seer sense never rattled as bad then as it does now. It makes me afraid Hawke. Those ships were lost along with many men's lives in that storm. It might not have been so bad if the Qunari were not so intent on catching me despite a little bad weather, but it would still have been bad. I do not want it happening again. That was the last time I was caught in a storm. It was a while ago now; I just hope I remember what to do." Isabella folds her arms and stares at the kelpie. Hawke sees the lines on her forehead, this must be bad, and Isabella never frowns. She laughs when she is worried, runs headlong into danger with just the barest whisper of a plan in her head.

"I didn't know you had some magic skill."

"The sum total of my inheritance from my parents Hawke. My mother I know had some magic skill, but I may have got this from my father. This knowing when my ship is in danger is the only piece of magic I have. Not enough to have Templars after me, although that could have been fun. The Circle would laugh if they took me in."

"Can I try something?" Hawke asks and focuses her mind as Isabella nods. Her magic sense reaches out, exploring and taking some time before she finds it. Isabella is right, her magical ability is so small it would barely be noticed if it was not turned on so much. She had described it as rattling and Hawke cannot think of a better word. It is magic she has not encountered before and it takes a while before she is able to make her own magic blend with it to any extent. It does not do much, but Hawke feels tuned in to Isabella's knowledge of the sea. She feels an awareness of how Isabella knows exactly what the ship is doing and what should be done on the ship moments before it needs to be done. This is seamanship that Hawke cannot hope to be proficient in. Any doubts about Isabella's surety of the scale and size of the storm that is coming disappear as well as any doubts of Isabella's skill as a sailor. It is intact.

"Well?" Isabella demands, "What did you find? Do you believe me now?"

"You didn't feel me poking around?" Hawke finds this difficult to comprehend. Sandal knew when she was there in his magic; Varania always knew when they mixed things up. That was why it was taking time to blend their magic together well, it took trust to let it flow as it should and they were both still learning how to trust each other enough to let that happen easily.

"I felt a little tickle, it felt quite nice, but nothing more. Nothing like how a real good poking should feel. Should I have felt something else?"

"I'm not sure, but I don't think it really matters. I believe you Isabella, though there is nothing to see when we look around, I know you are right. A storm is coming and a big one at that. What do we do about it? How can I help?"

Isabella shrugs her shoulders, "I would take us all back to Llomerryn, but Damian, Argo and Barzal would laugh at me and I'm not sure we have enough time. This weather is just too perfect for sailing. I keep scanning the coastline for places we could stop in at to sit it out when it comes, but all along this coast there are rocks hidden under the water that would just rip the hull apart. There is nowhere I have seen yet that would shelter us. All I've been able to do is snipe at all of you, drill procedures into your heads, make sure the ship is able to withstand what is coming, try and turn you into sailors that can get through this. I do not know that any of you are ready. I do not know if we have a hope of surviving. A few of the new boys have ridden out storms, but there are not enough of them. If you can think of anything to improve our chances let me know."

"There might be something, but I need to talk to Varania first."

"Please Hawke; anything at all that would help would be very welcome. I do not think there is much more time, just keep a watch on that little guy out there, when he disappears, we'll have about two hours. I'm taking us out from the coast now; I don't care what those other bastards are up to. This close to the shore, if the wind comes leeward, we will be blown onto those rocks. We need some space."

It is late in the afternoon when the kelpie goes. Isabella had taken the ship far out from shore, even the line of mountains had disappeared from the horizon. Barzal, Argo and Damian had all shouted their objections over at the ship when it started moving out from the shore, but had followed Isabella just the same and all three split up when Isabella felt they were far enough out. Isabella warned them they might not see them again until Seere, that is if any of them made it through this.

With the disappearance of the kelpie, Hawke had felt the temperature drop and the shift in the wind direction. As the sun neared the horizon, the sky turned yellow and far out on the ocean a line of low dark clouds started to make its way towards them. Hawke had said she believed Isabella's prediction of the storm, but when she saw it materialising in front of her eyes, she vowed always to act when Isabella told her, never would she need to probe her magic again to confirm it.

As the waves started to grow, Isabella gathered the crew around her, telling each of them what their task would be. All of them listen intently as she tells them what she wants them to do and why they need to do it right. "Hawke, if you've come up with that something, now would be a good time to share it with us, we are going to need everything we've got."

Hawke glances at Varania who nods before turning back to Isabella, "Varania and I will keep our magic blended in with yours. You do not need to do anything other than think what you want done, we will know it. Place us where you think best Isabella, we can pass on your instructions without you having to move, the only spells we think are going to be much use are the force spells, you want something shifted, that's what we'll use."

Isabella paces back and forth, thinking on what Hawke has told her and how she can best use it, "I'll need to stay at the wheel for most of this, Fenris and Pawl will come with me. I will need the strength of both of them to move the damned thing to manoeuvre the ship where it needs to be. Hawke, I know your magic is stronger, you go below, and use those force spells to move cargo about to give the ship better ballast. The guys down there will help, but if you can do it quicker and know from what I am thinking, where and how much has to move, we might have a chance of stopping the ship from capsizing. Varania you stay at the bow end on deck. When the wind and waves get up, no one down there will hear any instructions I have, if you can be my mouthpiece and make sure everyone does as they are told I can stay here."

Everyone moves to their allotted positions. Orana and Alano are told to stay in the captain's cabin and hold on tight. Everyone who will be on deck ties ropes around their waists and Isabella checks the knots herself, before gathering Hamahakis, Charade and Josson, one of the new crew, together to explain the hand signals she'll give them to let them know what sails she wants furled or unfurled. Then sends them up the rigging to put out the storm jib.

Isabella manoeuvres the ship to run with the wind and waits to ride the waves.

Hawke feels the rising power of the storm below deck. The four crew with her look at her with quiet stoicism, ready to do whatever she says. Harral stands to the side, his hands clasped in front of him waiting, no expression at all on his face. Looking around she sees most of the cargo is tied down, with a few well-chosen crates left loose. Those are the ones to be moved about to help the ship keep its balance.

Hawke wonders what Isabella needed her below deck for. She can feel the ship moving, but at a steady pace and keeping upright well. She senses Isabella chasing the three on the rigging back and forth, adjusting sails as she slowly but surely furls them in so the ship maintains pace with the waves. There is moment of panic as Hamahakis falls from the rigging into the waves and Josson calls on Pawl to help pull on the rope and haul him back in to the ship once more. Once all the sails are furled she sends the three to help Dalan and Garp putting out lines of rope looping behind the bow to help keep the ship pointing into the waves. No longer does she need sails, the force of the wind on the ship alone is enough to keep it moving.

Hawke startles as the ship starts to move down a wave and she can feel the ship tip to the side. All of them below deck stagger into the angle. Now she understands why Isabella wanted her down below. The sense of what Isabella needs her to do feels as if the inside of her head will explode, so desperate is she that Hawke gets this right. The force spell is sent out keeping the crates at exactly the right spot to maintain the angle of the ship, too much one way and they will slam into the wave in front, and too much the other and they will tip over and capsize. The men below deck help keep it all in place until the next spell needs to be released. Water starts pouring in the hatch as they breast each wave. Hawke flies out the force spells faster and faster, moving the crates back and forth to keep the ship exactly where Isabella wants them to be. For a fleeting moment she feels Isabella's confidence rise, they just might do this. She can feel Fenris drawing more and more of his strength to move the wheel to the points Isabella indicates, as the waves get higher and faster. Varania's voice is getting hoarse from shouting out Isabella's orders; it will not be long before she loses it completely.

She feels the change in Isabella's mood as more and more waves come over the stern. She is losing control of the ship. The wind and waves are master of it now. More water starts coming down the hatch drenching them all. Hamahakis and Josson are sent back to the rigging to ease out the mainsail and trim it. She feels it as Fenris gives a mighty pull on the wheel, Isabella and Pawl adding their own strength to his and Hawke can feel the ship heave to. More force spells fly out from her, the men running beside her to keep them in place once she has moved them. Varania screams with what is left of her voice to tell the crew at the stern to let out the anchor as the ship comes to a standstill. As the anchor drags, the ship begins to shift again to align directly into the waves.

Hawke senses Isabella calling her to come up on deck and help Varania to create shields for long enough that everyone on deck can get down below. Leave the men below to sort out the crates now. There is nothing more to do but lay a-hull and ride out the rest of the storm as best they can.

Once on deck Hawke sees the full ferocity of this storm. The rain immediately plasters her hair to her skull and the force of the wind tries to throw her down. The waves surround the ship like so many high, dark walls. The noise is deafening. The sky is dark and she can barely see her hand in front of her face. She puts a small ball of light at the top of her staff and immediately hears the yelling of crew with Dalan and Garp as they run towards it, slipping and sliding on the water that covers the deck. A shield round the hatch stops the wind from throwing them off their target as they start to move down. Varania is the last one from the stern end to come stumbling towards her, her mana all drained. She will cast no more spells for a while. Hawke grabs her hand to steady her before she makes her way down. Hamahakis, Charade and Josson follow behind her.

Hawke turns and can barely make out Isabella, Pawl and Fenris still at the wheel, all of them tying it off before they begin to make their way towards her. Hawke turns suddenly as a small crack of light appears at the door to the captain's cabin. They have all forgotten about Orana and Alano. Hawke tries to shout at them to get back in the cabin, but they do not hear her, the wind whipping the sound of her voice away. Orana comes stumbling towards Hawke the boy clasped tight in her arms. Hawke sends out a shield to protect them from the wind that threatens to send them both flying. Pawl, Fenris and Isabella reach her before them. Pawl and then Isabella head down, but Fenris waits at the hatch, trying to catch hold of her and pull her down, but she cannot go. Not until Orana and Alano are safe. Orana at last reaches the hatch and puts the boy in Fenris' arms before she puts her feet in to climb down.

The sudden lurch of the ship as it tilts to one side throws them all off balance. Hawke is thrown to the rail at the side and flung over the edge. Her grip on the rail is tight until the wave crashes over her and the force of the water is more than her grip can take and she falls. The cold of the water swallowing her and taking her breath away.

* * *

><p>Fenris swings out over the hold as the ship keels over, one hand gripping the edge of the hatch, the other still holding the boy. He looks down to see everyone below shifting crates trying to steady the ship and bring her upright again. As she slowly moves back, he catches his feet on the ladder and is able to move down with the boy. Orana lies unconscious having fallen through the hatch when sent off balance. As quickly as he can the boy is handed over to the outstretched arms of someone. He does not take the time to see who it is and he runs back up the ladder, peering out into the pitch black searching for her. He shouts out for her, but there is no reply. He goes back down to grab a lamp and goes back up to the hatch, sweeping it round to try to find her. The wind and the rain make the radius of light around him smaller than it should be. Where is the face that he expects to come into the light? Grinning at him as if to tell him he is so stupid for worrying about her. He makes to go further up and out, but suddenly he feels arms at his feet dragging him down. Pulling at him, stopping him from going up any further. He tries to kick them off, but there are too many and he is weak from pulling at that sodding wheel.<p>

"What are you doing? I have to go and get her! Which one is her rope?" he yells at them, swaying as the ship moves from side to side and turning. He does not see Isabella's face has turned pale or the tears that are streaming down her face. He does not see his sister huddled by crate, her hands covering her face and her shoulders shaking. He does not see the looks of pity and sorrow in the faces around him.

"Tie off the ropes and pull the hatch over Josson, we don't need any more water getting through from that point." Isabella says quietly and the man moves quickly to do as he is told.

"You can't close it! How will she get through?"

"She's not coming through." Isabella tells him gently through her tears, "We heard her scream and her body hitting the water. She did not have a rope. I forgot to tell her to tie one on when I asked her to come up. The sea has claimed her Fenris."

"No, she'd not dead! We just have to find her!" His tattoos flare, his anger at Isabella building to a rage, but she pays no heed.

"The storm isn't over; when it is it will be too late. If we survive, the current will have carried her far from here. We'll never be able to find her."

"You don't know that! She's your friend, you can't just leave her!"

"I don't want to Fenris! It's just impossible." His anger builds and he grabs her round the throat, but she doesn't even struggle. He looks at her and at last sees the deep sorrow in her face as the crew nearest her move to stop him from throttling their captain. She wants him to kill her. Already she blames herself for this. Then everything goes black.

* * *

><p>"Curious."<p>

The voice sounds distant, but he is sure it came from the bright figure in front of him. Fenris looks around, trying to get his bearings. He recognises Hawke's dream immediately. Why is he here? He was not sleeping. His attention is caught with Hawke lying on the ground in front of the archway, pools of water gathering around her. Her hand reaching out and pawing at a magical barrier at the archway.

He kneels down to grab her, "Hawke?", but there is no recognition of him, her eyes are open, but she does not see him. As he pulls her up towards him, more water drips, saturating him, the cold reaching through his clothes in seconds. Her hand still reaches out for something, but it blindly waves, until it reaches back to the barrier. Two small sparks of light quiver at the small indent at her throat.

"What is this?" he asks the figure of the old man, the only thing around him that seems able to give him any answer.

"Ah! I see. The rings." The voice booms around him, yet still sounds as if it is coming from far, far away. "You are joined to her. She dies. You die. Curious." The figure wavers for a moment before solidifying again. Fenris feels frustration build.

"What do you mean old man? Tell me what's going on!" The sound of low rumbling laughter surrounds him.

The figure points at Hawke, "Can't you see mortal? She is dying, but I will not let her pass. It is not her time yet. If not hers, then it can't be yours." The old man chuckles as his finger moves towards Fenris and touches his ring and he feels his strength return in full.

"Return. We will do no more."

* * *

><p>"He's coming round Isabella." He hears his sister's voice say, "Come on brother, please wake up." She whispers at him. His eyes flutter open to see relief on Varania's face as she looks down at him.<p>

"Get up elf. The storm is blowing itself out. Get to work, it'll help." Isabella says sadly. As she stands with her arms folded looking down at him.

"She isn't dead."

Isabella sighs and her shoulders slump "Don't do this Fenris. She is gone. Saying she isn't won't make it so."

He pushes himself up to sit, "She _is_ alive and you are going to help me find her."

Isabella closes her eyes, pausing before she responds, not wanting to make his pain worse. "And just where would we start looking? There is the whole of the Amaranthine Ocean out there. We could search until we die ourselves and still not find her. She would still be just as dead even if we did."

He grins at her and holds up his hand with the ring on his finger. He had felt it as soon as he woke. The draw from the strength the old man in the dream had given him. The slight tingle was weak, very weak, but it was there.

"We go that way." He points at the piles of crates in the far corner.

"Damn you man, that crack on the head when you fell must have done something to you! This is nonsense. You're just imagining things."

"Varania, do that thing you do with Hawke. Do it with the ring." Varania looks at her brother, wondering for a moment what he means. Then she reaches out with her magic, channelling it at the ring. A burst of soft incredulous laughter tells him she found it.

Varania looks up at Isabella, "It's true, I can feel it! Isabella you have to believe him. I do not know how, but the ring leads to her. We can get her back!"

"This had better not be your sisterly feelings just backing up your brother's madness. Fine. It can't make things any worse to search for her for a few days, but I am warning you now elf, a few days is all you have. I will not send us all on this mad search forever. Now get your skinny arse back up there and get this ship back to rights. We need to get to Seere before another bloody storm hits. We've got through this one by the skin of our teeth; I doubt we'd be so lucky again."

The dark clouds are breaking up, bits of blue and sunshine appearing between them when he gets on deck. The waves are still large, but not the towering walls of water they had been at the height of the storm and the ship cuts easily through them. The rest of the crew scurry around undoing all the damage done by the storm.

"Get to the wheel Fenris; you are the one that knows where we're heading. Tell the ship what you want her to do. I am getting the maps out, time to find out where we are! Can't have you bashing into rocks or small islands." Isabella struts off to find the maps and the sextant, looking up at the sun as it appears from behind a cloud. She silently thanks the Gods of the sea, each and every one of them and dares to hope that the elf might actually know what he is doing.

"Are you all right brother?" Fenris nods as his sister comes to stand behind him. "We all thought you had died as well. Duke had his cosh out to stop you killing Isabella, but he swears he did not touch you with it. You stopped breathing for a while. I cast no spell to heal you, but you healed anyway. I don't understand what happened."

"Neither do I. Maybe when we find Hawke, she can explain it." He adjusts the wheel and the ship moves slightly to port side after he rubs at the ring. "What happened whilst I was... unconscious? I remember seeing Orana was hurt."

"A bit bruised and battered. My healing magic is not what Hawke's is, but I managed to make her comfortable. She will have a sore head for a few days, but she will be all right. Hamahakis has taken her up to that Crow's nest. Says he is not letting her out of his sight again. Foolish thing to do forcing her up there, where I cannot see her. It was dreadful in that hold. Just to sit while the storm raged about, it was terrifying. Isabella assuring us this was the only thing that could be done. Everyone sat silent while the ship swayed, there were times it swayed so far I thought we were going to turn right over. You were out cold, Orana was hurt and Hawke was gone. Isabella says we were lucky, but I don't feel we were lucky." Varania puts a hand on his shoulder, "Find her brother. Maybe then I'll feel we have."

Fenris takes the ship along the path the ring provides. As the sun rises in the sky, everyone on board approaches him at some point, looking for reassurance from him that Hawke will be found. Only Alano comes and stays with him. Sitting at his feet, his knees tucked under his chin.

"Well I'll be damned if we aren't a bunch of lucky bastards." Isabella states as she comes near him, "We've been blown nearer Seere than I could have believed and you are taking us in the right direction."

Fenris frowns, "I haven't found Hawke yet, we haven't been that lucky."

Isabella sighs and stares out at the waves. "That's the only bit of bad luck. You do not get it elf, I thought we might all die in that. The ship is still afloat, Orana is the only injury and Hawke is the only one missing. You do know what happened in the last storm I sailed a ship through? I hope the others have fared as well."

"Well if you're right and we're getting nearer Seere, then it won't be long until you find out."

"Only if you find Hawke soon. I hope you are right and she is still alive. I want to believe you so much, but I have lost a few souls at sea before. You'll just have to forgive my scepticism." She looks down at Alano. "What are you doing down there boy? Haven't you work to do?"

"Please let me stay cap'n. I want to know when he finds the Hawke lady. She got me out of the bad place. I want her back." He looks up at her with his large blue eyes, pleading with her to let him stay.

"Fenris are you all right with this? I'll shift him if you want."

"Leave him Isabella. He is the only one who has not asked me whether I will find her or not. He just wants to be there when I do."

"Fine. Looks like you've got yourself a new puppy."

Fenris looks down at the boy as Isabella leaves them. Hawke had told him not to let his pride get in the way of asking for help and the boy's presence does help. His absolute faith that he will find Hawke easing the fear that inevitably gnaws at the back of his thoughts. What if the old man was wrong? What if he doesn't get to her in time?

The afternoon wears on without any sign of Hawke. Fenris can still feel the draw of her, but it is getting weaker. He does not know if it is because she is moving further away or because she herself is getting weaker. Neither option is good and he asks Isabella if they can move faster. Sails unfurl and the ship speeds its way over the waves.

It is late in the evening, by the last rays of the sun when Hamahakis shouts out that he sees something in the water. All sails are pulled in and the ship begins to slow. Everyone except Fenris moves to the rail looking out to where Hamahakis points. At first, it is only a darker spot in the water that comes and goes as the waves rise and fall. As they get closer, it is Alano that turns and beams at Fenris, "You found her!"

Isabella comes over to him, "I'll get it from here, go and pick her up." Fenris nods his thanks at her and runs over to the rope ladder that Josson has put over the side of the ship. Josson ties the safety rope round his waist before he climbs down until his legs are in the water. He can hear the rest of them shouting directions to Isabella, trying to make sure they get as close as they can, but as he catches sight of her, he can see that somehow she is moving towards the ship. His heart leaps as he recognises the outline of her body, the colour of her hair, the line of her head, the shape of her hand as fingers trail in the water. There is no doubt now in him, it is Hawke, his Hawke. As she gets nearer he sees she is lying on the back of the horse-like animal that had been following the ship when they left Llomerryn, but she is not moving, he would think she was dead were it not for the pull on the ring. He remembered Hawke telling him of the kelpie, but she had never mentioned they helped sailors who had gone overboard. As it nears, he can see its head straining to get closer to the ship. It seems like a long, long time before the kelpie reaches the side of the ship and Fenris stretches out his arms long before they come close enough that he can lift her from the animal's back. He had refused to consider that he might not get her back, but as he holds her, the full impact of what it could have meant hits home. If the old man was right, that if she dies, he dies then that is just how it should be. She is cold, so very cold, but he can feel the slight movement of air on his neck as she breathes. He fixes her in one arm and starts climbing back up. The jerk on the ladder from below makes him stop and turn to look down. The kelpie's long splayed hooves touch the rung of the ladder and it pulls itself up. Fenris can only stare wide eyed as the animal changes its shape into that of a human and starts climbing up behind him, giving him a wide grin and waiting for him to continue climbing the ladder.

As Fenris climbs over the rail, hands reach out to touch Hawke as if it is only through touching her that they can begin to believe that she has come back. Isabella leaves the wheel to come close and put her hand on her cheek,

"Damn it, but you're good elf, I'm sorry I didn't believe you. She is far too cold. Take her to bed and climb in with her. Best way I know to warm her up." Fenris carries her to the cabin, only barely aware of the silence that falls as the kelpie climbs over the rail to stand in front of them all.

Varania comes with him and helps him remove all of Hawke's wet clothing before going to the galley for warm drinks. Fenris strips and shivers as his body curls round her, her body is like ice, the skin pale and her lips tinged with blue. He takes hold of her hands rubbing them and willing then to heat up. Her body seems lifeless, no response to his touch or his whispers in her ear. His hand keeps going to her chest so he can feel the slow rise and fall and reassure himself that she still breathes. Varania comes and soaks cloths with warm water to squeeze them and drip the liquid into her mouth as Fenris holds her head. Hot steaming water is poured into bladders, which are wrapped in cloth to be placed at the places Fenris' body cannot cover. Slowly the blue leaves her lips and he feels the icy cold of her skin warm to match the warmth of his own, but it is well into the night, before she utters a moan and turns into him and he allows himself to fall into a deep dreamless sleep.

* * *

><p>"I've heard of the expression 'hung like a horse' but this is the first time when I have seen it so utterly accurate." Isabella can hardly tear her eyes from the naked man's member to look at anything else of him, but she does to drink in the sight of a man so different from anything else she has ever seen. He stands a head taller than any of them, his body bulked by muscle, not an ounce of fat to hide his sculpted form under his green tinged skin. He shakes his head and the long, wet strands of the dark green hair that covers his head and runs in a line down his spine, fan out showering them all with droplets of water.<p>

He stands and grins at them, shaking his arms and bobbing up and down on the balls of his feet as if easing out cricks from the changes his body made on leaving the water.

"Well are you not a glorious sight to behold. This more than anything else may make me regret my promise. I would _so_ like to sample you." Isabella reaches out her hand to run her fingertips down through the hair of his chest. The man whickers at the tickle on his skin her touch causes.

"Careful Cap'n, this 'man' was a horse swimming in the ocean only a few seconds ago," points out Josson, "We don't know what kind of creature this is."

Isabella waves her hand at him, "Who cares? He is beautiful. He brought Hawke back to us, he can't be that monstrous."

"Equus Neptunas. Horse of the sea. Commonly known as a kelpie." Harral pipes up, "I have read a little of them in texts, but none have written of shape-shifting abilities."

"I know what he is Harral, but we all saw him change. Shape shifting abilities he most definitely has. If I had known they did this I might have tried to catch one long before now." She turns back to the kelpie man,

"Tell me sweet thing, what is your name?"

The man lets out a string of unintelligible sounds before they clearly hear him say, "Cavall. Need food."

Isabella raises her eyebrows, "So you can talk. Cavall it is then. I think the least we can do is feed you. What do creatures like you eat?"

"Dead men."

Orana lets out a cry and her hands fly to her mouth. Isabella winces, "I'm afraid we are fresh out of dead men right now. How about some fish?"

The man nods vigorously, his hair flying out around him once more. Isabella nods to Orana who rushes off to the galley, Hamahakis following her by walking backwards to the galley, his blades out in both hands, never taking his eyes off the kelpie before disappearing down the stairs.

"Charade, why don't you see if you can find something for this chap to wear? I would like to talk with him, but I can't do it with _that_ to distract me." Charade sizes him up with her eyes and nods approvingly before heading below deck to see what she can find.

"I'm afraid the place where I usually entertain guests is otherwise occupied, will talking here do?" Isabella indicates a couple of barrels. Cavall shrugs and goes to jump on top of one, swinging his long lean legs forward and back as he looks round at all the crew and gives them a wild smile.

"I don't like this Cap'n." Says Duke, "He wants to eat dead men, what if he decides the fish ain't good enough and makes us dead enough for him to eat?"

Cavall shakes his head at him and waves his hands, "Only eat in water! No fall in, no eat!"

"But Hawke fell in the water and you didn't eat her!" Alano squeals, his initial fascination with the strange greenish man beginning to turn to terror when he had heard him talking about eating people.

Cavall looks at the boy, "Hawke? Spell weaver?" he says pointing at the cabin where he saw her being taken. Alano nods, his eyes still wide and round and not able to hide his fear. Cavall smiles at him, "Hawke not dead."

"That clears that up...a bit."Isabella looks at him curiously, "Are you saying you only eat sailors when they fall overboard and drown? You don't actively kill people for food?"

"No, only when no food will harras sing. Make men fall in water to chase song, then they die. No need for song long time, many men fall in water. Follow you long time ago, plenty food. Follow again, hope for more."

"You were there when the Siren's Call went down? You _ate_ all those poor sods? Ugh! That's disgusting!" A pained look crosses Isabella's features.

"This is a natural part of the food chain in the oceans, Captain Isabella." Harral speaks, "The fish would eat the corpses also. You have eaten fish. This is an efficient use of resources. "

"Oh shut up you miserable excuse for a mage! I still feel responsible for all those deaths, that they ended up being eaten by green underwater horses or fish was not the peaceful end I had imagined for them! And this bugger is telling me he followed me because he thought I was a bad Captain who would let it happen all over again!"

"You proved him wrong Cap'n. Shall I kill him now?" Duke pulls his blade out ready to do the deed should Isabella assent.

"Put it away Duke. I suppose it is not his fault that is what his kind does. He was not the one that lost the Siren's Call. Besides, he brought Hawke back to us; he's bought his chance to live with that alone."

Charade appears back with trousers that Cavall quickly puts on once she explains what to do with them. Hamahakis brings the fish up from the galley, not willing to let Orana anywhere near this man-eating monster, no matter what he might say about waiting until men are dead first. Cavall starts tearing at the raw fish with his teeth, taking his time to chew it to a fine pulp before swallowing. The questions stop while they watch him, all of them except Harral wondering if he eats men's limbs in the same way.

Isabella directs the crew to prepare the ship for nightfall, distracting them from staring too much at Cavall while he eats and uses the lengthy time it takes him to think on what he has told them so far. Listing in her head the questions she wants answered when he has finished. She thought she knew about kelpies, but from what Cavall has said, it is clear that she knows very little. It irritates her that her encyclopaedic knowledge of all things nautical now has a great big gaping hole in it. As he licks his fingers after eating the last of the fish, she sits beside him, Harral seated cross-legged on the deck, insisting that what this kelpie had to say should be written. Dalan and Garp stand at her back with their arms folded. Isabella can order them about as much as she likes, they are not leaving until they are sure this creature is not going to harm her.

"How is it that you can talk Cavall?"

"Listen to men talk on ships. Understand much, but hard to speak words."

"Then tell me as best you can. What happened that you were able to bring Hawke back to us?"

Cavall nods and begins to tell Isabella how he came to find the spell weaver and return her to them.

When he knew the storm was coming he had gone far below the surface knowing that he could avoid the turbulence caused by the wind and waves. If sailors were to fall in and drown he knew where their bodies would fall and planned to sing out the message to other kelpie that here they would find sustenance. He had been disappointed when only the one had come down and even more so when she was not dead. He saw her create a bubble and she began to rise again, but the bubble had burst with the pressure of the water. While she fell back down into the murky depths, he remembered a legend among his people of a spell weaver who had forced the kelpie to help him when he fell in the water. The spell weaver had rewarded his people with great supply of dead men, so that they had prospered and grown strong. Cavall hoped that if he saved this one his people might be rewarded again.

He had made his way towards her and shunted her up to the surface with his nose. When they got there the shunting had caused the water in her lungs to come bursting out. Cavall had gone under her so she could ride on his back, but he could not take her back to the ship. The wind was too strong, the waves too high and the current had caught them. He had no choice but to run with it until he could find a weak point where he could take them out. The current took them a great distance before he found the right spot. He could feel the line of magic reaching back when her ring had touched his neck and guessed that it lead to the ship and so had tried to return avoiding the current that would lead them away again. When he saw the ship, he had been glad and hoped that his people could now get their reward.

"So, no altruistic feelings at all towards sailors. Just like the rest of us and looking out for yourself."

"The tale of mage Nayden in the war with the Qunari must be the legend he talks of." Harral explains, "Mage Nayden was found on the shore near Kont-Arr after being thought lost at sea. The tale states kelpie had left him there. He immediately joined the crew of one of the pirate ships and was said to be most helpful in his use of fireballs to sink many vessels of the Qunari fleet with great loss of men to the Qunari. Unfortunately he died in battle when a Qunari blade split him from head to waist. He had been so determined in his use of fireballs; he forgot to put up his shields."

Isabella is just about to tell Harral to shut up again, when she realises he is doing what he can to fill in that great empty hole. Maybe he has more uses after all.

"Stupid bastard. Sounds just like something Hawke would do though. Just as well she has Fenris to watch her back."

The stories connect though and Cavall's account of what happened makes sense. Getting him his reward is another matter entirely. It is going to take more than a few fish and Isabella is not about to take on a Qunari fleet just so a few kelpie can get fat. Grateful as she is that he saved Hawke, she is not _that_ grateful.

"I think you should discuss any 'reward' with Hawke when she recovers. Would you mind tagging along until she does?"

Cavall nods, "Kelpie very patient in waiting for dead men. Will wait for Hawke. Will eat fish until dead men come."

The wave of fatigue that washes over her, now that she knows there is no danger to the crew from Cavall puts paid to any further questions she might have of him. If he is going to continue following them, there will be plenty of time to find out all she wants. She has not slept since before the storm hit and her seer sense has gone still. The ship is safe, the crew is safe and Hawke is back. The only worry to gnaw at her is what has happened to the other ships. She turns to Dalan and Garp.

"I have to rest now. Keep an eye on things; see that Cavall gets all the fish he wants."

* * *

><p>Fenris wakes to see Alano's hand stroking Hawke's hair. While perturbed that the boy has come into the cabin while they both lie in a bed without any clothing, he appreciates the boy's need to check on his saviour. His large soulful eyes look to Fenris,<p>

"She will be all right won't she?"

He looks down on her sleeping peacefully now. He can feel her body has regained all of its usual warmth and puts a hand out to cover the boys on her head.

"Yes."

Alano gives a small smile, the small frown lines that had been on his forehead smooth out.

"When she gets better do you think she would show me how to make the light ball?"

"It is only those with magic that can do that boy and only after a long time of learning, but I'm sure there are other things she could show you how to do. I could show you how to use a sword, and then you could poke it into any more bad men that want to take you away."

Alano gives him a wide grin, "That would be good! But I really want to make the light ball, I can do this." A small spark flies out from his pointed finger and Fenris jumps back Alano's giggles ringing out in the cabin as Fenris tries to regain his composure. No wonder the Crows were eyeing up this lad, someone must have seen him do that and realised they could recruit an apostate mage for their ranks. He grabs Alano's hand in his fist, "Don't do that again! When Hawke wakes up, I will get her to talk with you. Your grandmother won't like this." He sends the boy off to go and get him something to eat from the galley and dresses before someone else decides they have the right to walk in unannounced to check up on Hawke.

Varania walks in as he ties up the laces on his trousers,

"Does no one know how to knock on a door on this ship?" Varania laughs as she sets down the tray she is carrying,

"You can't expect any sort of privacy until she is up and walking around again brother. Hawke belongs to all of us and we all want to see her to make sure she is mending. Alano said you were up and about. What did you do to him? He has gone all shy again. I thought you and he had made friends after his vigil beside you at that wheel."

"We did make friends, that's how I know he is a mage sister. We'll have to find a Circle so he can get the help he needs."

Varania looks at him in disbelief, "He's a mage? You cannot do that! He is just a boy; I have heard the stories of what they do to children in these places. How can you even think of such a thing?"

"We're going to Tevinter; I won't risk them getting their hands on him. A Circle will keep him safe and stop his magic from getting out of hand."

"But you've seen what's happening in the Circles, he won't be safe!"

"What else can we do? It is bad enough that you and Hawke have to be careful not to be found out when we get in at any port. How can we hide a boy not in control of his magical abilities as well?"

Varania walks up to poke him in his chest, "It's just as well she is asleep and can't hear you say these things! I thought you had changed your mind about mages. The boy stays with us. Hawke and I will teach him how to control his magic, we will keep him safe. When we get to Tevinter, he will stay on the ship so no one will find him. I will not let you do this brother and I do not think Hawke will either. That boy trusts you, you saved him from that slave ship, do not betray that trust! Now get out of here, get some fresh air and let some sense enter your head. I'll look after Hawke for a while." She keeps on poking at him until he is out of the room and slams the cabin door in his face when he gets beyond it leaving him to wonder how he ended up on the wrong side of it.

A cheer goes up when they all catch sight of Argo's ship. As the ships draw near ropes are sent flying between them, a pulley system set up, and Argo swings over sitting on a plank of wood.

"Ah Isabella Ma'am 'tis a grand thing to see you is all right, so it is." He says clasping her hands in his and pumping them up and down.

"You too Argo. How did you fare?" The little man's face clouds over,

"None too good. Lost a couple of boys when top of mast broke off. Sad it is, they was shaping up well too. Another got crushed when crate smashed into 'im. I was hopin' M'lady could have a look at 'im. Won't go sailin' no more if'n he don't get some healin'. Might have been worse if you hadn't 'ave got us out from the coast like you did."

"I'm afraid there's a problem with that, but Varania might be able to help out."

"Is M'lady all right?" he asks ready to start sobbing in his panic and dread over hearing the answer and fearing the worst.

"She is now, long story Argo, let's open a barrel and I'll tell you all about it.

Varania agrees to do what she can to help the injured sailor despite her trepidation about moving between ships on a wooden swing. As she stands at the rail ready to go, she calls to her brother,

"If I fall in the water, you'll find me too won't you?"

He smiles at her, "I won't need to, the green horse will fish you out. He has promised he won't eat you."

His reassurance has no calming effect on her whatsoever, "Look after Alano, don't let Isabella boss him about, tell Hawke about him when she wakes up. I know that keeping him with us is the right thing."

"Why are you talking like this? You won't fall in the water; nothing bad is going to happen."

She looks over at the other ship, "I know I'm only going in that thing once. I am not coming back until the ships reach Seere. If the man were not so badly injured I would not go at all. Alano looks up to you. Promise me you won't make him go to the Circle."

He shakes his head, "I promise to do whatever Hawke says is best, will that do?"

She gives a small nod and hugs him before climbing into the swing with Pawl's help. She keeps her eyes closed all the way over to the other ship, her hands gripped tight on the ropes. She does not fall in the water.

When Hawke wakes, it is to find Fenris dozing in a chair beside the bed and the small body of Alano curled up on top of the bed sheets beside her. She wonders if she is dreaming, the last she knew the bubble of air she tried to create around her in the water had burst and then everything had gone black. How can she be here? The sounds of music, dreadful singing and drunken laughter float through the cabin door. Where is the storm, the howling wind, the mountainous waves and the rain?

She sits up, careful not to disturb the sleeping boy. Everything feels real and this is the cabin on the ship.

"Fenris." She whispers as loudly as she can at him and again when he does not stir. "Fenris! Wake up!" Fenris jolts as her voice manages at last to penetrate. His face lights up and he bends over Alano to kiss her, "It's good to have you back."


	9. Chapter 9

'After Kirkwall – 9'

"How can you do it? Let her stand so close to that beast without putting a blade to his throat. What if he changes his mind and kills her anyway?"

Fenris turns from watching Hawke talking to Cavall to stare at Hamahakis. The man stands ready, his blade in his hands, his whole body tense, ready to tackle any threat. The current perceived one is obviously Cavall. Orana is behind him, quietly scrubbing away at the clothes in the barrel, the soapsuds spilling over with water splashes creating a bubble-filled puddle on the deck. This is not right. They have come through a terrible storm, all of them still alive, a bit bruised and battered maybe, but still alive. The sharing of everyone's experience, Fenris knows is how they deal with the narrow escape from death. Celebrating being alive still is a strange experience to him; just surviving was enough for him. Reflecting on experiences is still something he prefers to do on his own, but Hamahakis is not reflecting or celebrating.

He had been enjoying watching Hawke, no signs of the trauma she had been through evident, but then, the trauma had mostly been his to experience. Hawke remembered nothing of riding on the kelpie's back or being close to death for most of that ride. Nothing of the eternity it seemed like it had taken to get her warm again. She had woken and carried on as if nothing had happened, but that she had had the best night's sleep ever. She had listened to his account of the search for her, but had not commented, just rubbing at her ring as if trying to feel for herself the drawing sensation that had lead him to her. She had been very appreciative of his efforts in returning her, but he knew she hated being at the mercy of other people's actions. Hated that this was one situation she had been utterly helpless to get herself out of. She had wanted to hear every detail, every word; every nuance of the conversation he had had in her dream with the old man, but had said only that she would need to think before explaining to him what that had been all about. Now that she was safe and well, he could admit to himself that a piece of him had quite enjoyed being the rescuer for a time, Cavall might have stolen some of his thunder, but he was so relieved to have found her, he was more than willing to share some of the glory with the long haired curiosity.

He had still to talk with her about Alano. The boy had woken up before he had reached that part of his tale and jumped onto her, hugging her tightly until he ran off to shout out to everyone that she was awake. Things had got a little chaotic after that, the crew barging in and all talking at once until Isabella had screamed at them to shut up before telling Hawke "Get up you lazy mare! We have all been working our butts off while you have been enjoying your beauty sleep! There's a really sexy green man out there who thinks you owe him, look lively before he thinks you are dead and eats you!"

Standing at the rail watching her talk with everyone he had allowed himself to relax, letting the others express their own joy, relief and wonder at her still being with them. He would have time enough with her later to express his own. Watching her with Cavall, he had no need to get close to hear what was said, the expressions fleeting across her face had reflected whatever part of his tale he was relating.

He cannot understand why Hamahakis thinks he should be ready to kill the creature that had brought her back.

"Why would you think he would want to harm her?"

"He eats people! He could have a bite out of her before you could get close enough. How would you feel then?" the tension in Hamahakis is painful to see. The man is obviously desperate for someone to back up his vigilant stance and Fenris is his target for the moment.

"I would think Hawke had been unusually stupid. She reads people well; she does not tend to get that close to anything that is too great a threat. That is usually left to me to take care of. Besides, if anything does get that close, she is good with a swing of her staff; she is not incapable of looking after herself. "

"But he is a beast! How can anyone 'read' that? You should be beside her, just in case." Fenris sighs; Varania had told him she thought Hamahakis had become overly protective of Orana. This conversation was nothing to do with how dangerous Cavall may or may not be or his failure to keep a vigilant stance at Hawke's side. Hamahakis, for the first time had been faced with the thought of losing his own loved one and been scared. He understood what the man was going through. Time after time Hawke had put herself in danger when he could do nothing but wait and hope she got herself out of it. Orana being knocked unconscious when he was there and unable to stop it happening, no action he could do himself could help her, completely reliant on the actions of others to keep her alive. He had been in that situation too many times. That feeling of impotence that makes you more paranoid and determined to stop it ever happening again. He understood what Hamahakis was trying to do, but it was doomed to failure. He would lose Orana if he kept this up.

"You're saying I should be more like you?" He says, looking over at Orana as she continues her diligent attendance to laundry duties.

"Yes!" The man shrieks.

"If I was then Hawke would not want to be with me." He raises an eyebrow at Hamahakis.

"I'm just making sure Orana doesn't get hurt again. You should be doing the same." He says stubbornly.

"If you want to make sure Orana doesn't get hurt again, then you should take her and leave this ship as soon as we reach Seere and forget about finding her Poppa." Hamahakis looks at Fenris in horror as if he has told him he should go back to being a slave again. "Danger and risk will always come. All you can hope for is that it is you are able to do something when it does. Enjoy the times you have together when there is none." He shouts over at the woman with her sleeves rolled up, still scrubbing away, "Orana, Hamahakis here will finish that, why don't you go over and join the rest of them?"

Her face lights up and she thanks Hamahakis before running over to mingle with the rest of the crew listening to Cavall relate more tales. Hamahakis gawps at Fenris,

"Close up your mouth and finish what Orana has started. If you want to protect her best, teach her to do it herself. You can't be there every second of the day, you'll stifle her and exhaust yourself, and then you are fit for nothing." Hamahakis stares at him in shock, whether it is Orana's obvious lack of fear of the kelpie or the thought of doing laundry chores that is its source, Fenris has no idea, but it needed to be done. He hopes it is enough to make the man divert the course of his current path of action. "You'll thank me tomorrow. I can guarantee that you'll have a much better time in that Crow's Nest tonight!"

* * *

><p>Cavall thinks land people are amazing. Why was he always warned not to talk with them? Not to let them see how he was able to change? Never to get too close to a ship that they could put out one of their nets to catch him. The people on this ship are funny, their song is terrible, it does not reach far, it does not call food to them, but it makes him laugh, they sing of such silly things and they use words. They use words for everything, best of all for the stories. He had never imagined that land people did so many different things; he had thought all they did was go about on ships, popping in at their coastal nests to get food and then back on the ships again.<p>

The one they called Harral was the only one who did not join in with the singing and the tale telling. He sat making markings on stuff he called vellum. When he asked, Harral had told him he was writing down his story. It had taken them all taking a turn at explaining before he understood what writing was. He had laughed, this writing did nothing, the pieces of vellum were put to the side and no one did anything with them. They had asked how his people remembered their tales and legends and he did the only thing he knew how and started singing. It did not sound as wonderful as it did under the water. He thought they did not like it when they all went quiet, but once he had finished there was water coming from their eyes and though they did not understand the language of the kelpies, they seemed to know he had been singing of the Great Storm when food had been plentiful. They had patted his shoulders and arms and said many things he could not understand, particularly the one called Argo who, after mumbling many strange sounds, ended up wrapping his arms around him and kissing his forehead, "Tha' were booful boy, jus' booful."

He had returned to the water after that. He needed to rest and found a perfect spot on the ocean floor where he could scratch his back on the rocks. He had caught up easily with the ships after he was rested and the ladder was where the one called Josson had said it would be. The one called Charade had been ready with the trousers for him to put on, this made him laugh too. They were all wonderful and strange. Watching from the water there had been so many things about them he did not see. There were still no dead men to feed on, but they had given him many fish.

Then the spellweaver had come. She looked very different from what he had seen of her under the water, but he knew it was she as soon as she took his hand. The ring sang of her spells. She had asked him how he had helped her and he had to tell the story again. He would have liked to have sung it to her, but she asked that he used the words, that was the start of his disappointment. She had thanked him for what he had done, but she said she could not give him the reward he asked for. How can she be a spellweaver and not do this? She had said she could not make dead men just for him. Looking at the people around her, he thought he could understand. These people were fun and had made him laugh so much; if she turned them into dead men, they would not be able to do that anymore. This was a puzzle to him. He did not want to sing to the harras of this tale when he had no food to share with them. He did not want the land people to stop making him laugh. What other reward could she give him?

"I would follow for a time. If you give me fish, I will not starve. I would like to know more of the land people. I will think on reward."

She had laughed with him and agreed. Maybe another reward would not be so bad. He would just have to think hard about what it could be.

* * *

><p>"We should talk Hawke." Fenris tells her as he slides a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She knows they need to talk and she has been putting it off all day. It was easy for the most part, she needed to hear Cavall's tale and then they had spent time getting Argo back to his ship and dismantling the swing. It had taken all of them to get the ship moving again to make its way to Seere. Isabella had pulled her aside and spent a long time apologising for forgetting to make her tie on a safety rope, for giving her up for lost so quickly and for having lewd thoughts about Cavall, although why she would apologise to her for the last one was beyond her. She had gone to Harral who had proved more talkative than he usually was when she had asked him about spirits, but she learnt little more than she already knew. That was the problem, she knew so little. This great big adventure they had had , all to find her again and she knew nothing of it, but the knowledge revealed was terrifying to her. She should be dead, drowned like so many other Sailors before her and eaten by kelpies from what Cavall said.<p>

As she looks back at her white haired elf, she just wants to cry and crawl into his arms and stay that way forever. Did Sandal know what he was doing when he put his magic into those rings? If she had known, would she ever have brought them on this voyage, which could only lead to more danger? She had thought the rings were wonderful, able to heal their wounds so quickly, allowed them to be together in their dreams, give each other strength and mana, but this...this was not what she expected. She had not told Fenris of the Spirits in her dream and now he had found them by himself, pulled into it because she was dying. The only reason that both of them were not dead now, because a spirit would not let her pass through. "She dies. You die." The spirit had told him. The thought that because of her he could die also is unbearable.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't know... I'll cut off my finger... we'll go back...we'll find somewhere safe, I can't risk this!" he pulls her into his arms and lets her tears fall.

"I remember telling you I couldn't bear the thought of living without you. I meant it Hawke. It is my fault. This is no more than something I wished for. Perhaps Sandal knew that. My concern is, if it works both ways, I could do something stupid and end your life. That I did not wish for."

"You are never stupid."

He strokes her hair thinking of the many times he has been exactly that, but loving the faith she has in him not to be so. She pulls away a little from him to look into his eyes,

"I think my life without you in it would be...I don't want to think of it. Do not blame yourself. If this was not part of the rings, you might never have been able to find me. I just can't stand the thought that my death will be the death of you." They stand in each other's arms, realisation of how much they are now bonded together sinking in. Hawke's tears dry and she hold his head in her hands to kiss him. "Maybe this is not as bad as we think. Maybe it just means we have to make sure we both keep living."

"That sounds more like what Sandal would intend. Perhaps we should both think before we dive headlong into dangerous situations."

"Agreed. If we get the chance, dangerous situations have a habit of diving headlong into us." The small smile she gives him lets him know this has not changed anything. Just another piece of the puzzle of the rings found.

He takes her hand, twining his fingers in with hers, "Who is the old man in your dream?"

Hawke pauses before answering, she knew he would ask, of course he would ask. This was why she had talked with Harral, trying to make sure of the answer herself.

"I think he is a Spirit, I think the other one is too."

"The _othe_r one? I thought when he said 'we' he meant it in the 'I am so much better than you mere mortal' sense, not that there was actually more of them! A spirit? Isn't that what made Anders the abomination he is? You knew about them. You should have told me! " He cannot contain the fear from his voice that Hawke might become like the mage he hated almost as much as Danarius. Maybe both of them dying would have been the better option.

"I would have, but I was too busy accusing you of being absent from my dream." Fenris gulps back his rage. She had been right to accuse him. He had not been there. The ability of the rings to let them enter each other's dreams, he supposed was intended to draw them closer, instead, he had not used it, bringing a distance between them that should never have been present.

"And I have been too busy dealing with mine to have seen what was happening in yours." He hangs his head, feeling ashamed that his nightmares have caused them to be apart in this.

"Don't say that! You need to do what you are doing. I do not know why these Spirits are there. I did not summon them. They say they are not there for me. My only fear is that they will attract demons. Until they do, crush your own. I know how much this is something you need to do."

"But what if you end up with one of them, or both, inside you? You could end up as warped in the head as that damned mage was!"

"Anders' problems were his own, the spirit did not give him them. He just had difficulty controlling his anger." Hawke says trying to explain what she has difficulty understanding herself, but clear that what happened to Anders was unique. She is in no danger of becoming like him.

"That's a bit of an understatement." Fenris cannot hide the contempt he still holds for the man. He still has difficulty understanding Hawke's reasons for keeping him alive.

Hawke knows she cannot change his mind about Anders and tries only to help him see what is happening here is different, "His situation was not like this. Justice was cut off from the fade. These spirits are not. The old man helped didn't he? I don't think they mean harm. From what I remember my father telling me, Spirits are supposed to be helpful; they do not desire to possess you. Harral says the same thing."

"I don't like it Hawke."

She gives him a small smile, "I'm not entirely sure I'm comfortable with this myself. Look, you have promised to find me if you need help with your nightmares, I will promise to find you if I need help with demons in my dreams. Can we make this promise to each other?"

"I still don't like it, but yes, a promise will have to do for now. There is one more thing."

"Something more?" Hawke can see by the look on his face that it is something else that is not good. He looks at her with a deep sadness in his eyes.

"Alano. He's a mage."

Hawke sits down on the bed, a welter of emotions and memories running through her head. Is this how her mother felt when her father must have told her about her own emerging ability? This mixture of pride that someone who you have cared for has shown an innate unlooked for talent and fear for what it might mean for them.

"Are you sure? How do you know?" The boy is so young, but no younger than she was when her talents showed up.

"He saw your light show during the storm. He wondered if you might be willing to show him how to do it and then showed me what he can do now. I would send him to a Circle, but Varania has grown fond of him. She thinks the two of you should teach him."

Of course, Fenris would think of a Circle first. His distrust of mages is still there, he might trust her and maybe his sister as well now, but to expect him to trust a young boy might be too much to ask. Nevertheless, to put him in a Circle now is unthinkable, after what they have seen in Kirkwall and Antiva, he may get caught up in the conflict or worse. Hawke remembered vividly when she first read what the Rite of Annulment involved. She did not pluck the boy from a slave ship, to put him in danger of being murdered by Templars. However, teaching him? Her father had taught her, but that did not mean she would be any good at doing the same. They were headed to the Tevinter Empire, having a young mage just coming into his talent along with them would be dangerous, but then, Isabella was prepared to take him there as a cabin boy with no emergent skill, would it really be so much worse for him? Was there any other way? From what Isabella had told her of Seere, the free mages there were partial to consorting with demons, she could not leave him with them. If there were Dalish somewhere, she could trust them to look after him well, as an elf they would accept him more easily than they had Feynriel, but the nearest Dalish camp she knew of was back in Llomerryn and they had taken so much time to get this far, Isabella would never agree to go back. She could not risk getting a bad reputation for late delivery of cargo so early in the life of her business.

"Varania has grown fond of him?" she had known this would happen the moment he came on board. "She's not the only one. You let him stay with you to watch over me." He shrugs his shoulders, not willing to admit just yet how much having the lad around had helped him, "Yet you would still send him to the Circle?" Hawke asks, trying to determine how much Fenris' ideas of magic and mages has shifted again.

"I would not let him be caught by magisters."

"On that we are agreed. It has not turned out too well with Feynriel, but _he_ needed the training only they have. I wish there had been another way." Hawke remembers well the poor choices placed on her shoulders when asked to help Feynriel. Alano does not need the help that Feynriel did, that she could not give. The choices with Alano are different and this time it is help she _can_ give.

"Alano needs what we have. I had only my father and books. Here, Alano has me, Varania and Harral. Between us, we have everything a circle has."

"An apostate, a trainee magister and a Tranquil mage. All training him on board a ship. How is that a small version of a Circle?"

She grins at him, "With you acting as a sort of Templar, its perfect." Fenris sighs, so he is to be the missing piece for Hawke's own circle.

"So you're decided, we train him here?" She can see his shoulders slumping in defeat, yet another time she has not taken his advice."

"I know it's not perfect. It is far from perfect. The alternatives are just worse. At least this way Gianna has a chance of seeing her grandson again. Alano stays with people who care about him and the people he cares about. He has already been taken from his mother twice, narrowly missed having died on a slave ship, I will not traumatise him any further. If a better alternative comes along, we will take it. This is the best for now."

"I hope you're right."

* * *

><p>Hawke feels chills run down her spine when she first catches sight of Seere. The town sits in a natural harbour created by the horseshoe of mountains that surround it. The low dark clouds spilling out a mist of rain that makes it seem bleak and unwelcoming. Isabella has them all calling out as they come in to the harbour, looking for the rocks on either side of its opening. She calls it a miserable pit of a town, saying she would bypass it completely were it not for Gianna's contracts and their need to stock up on supplies. Smoke drifts up from the chimneys of the low stone built cottages, evidence of life that cannot be seen in the streets. There is barely a sound, nothing like the noise and bustle of Llomerryn. It stays silent, the only the sound that of the waves running up the shingle on the shore.<p>

Everyone is tense as the ship passes through the break in the rocks to the harbour, letting out breath only when they have passed them, the ship still intact. The sombre mood lifts a little at the sight of Barzal and Damian's ships nestling at the quay. They made it through the storm. Isabella sends out prayers that Argo will manoeuvre through the gap without incident; his ship has been broken enough. The rocks at the sides of the quay have been cut deep to make berths for the ships to sit in. The harbour master comes out of his shed and comes to stand at the space he thinks they should fill, never uttering a sound, just waving his arms to direct them. The only living soul they have seen so far in a place that oozes despair and a sense of loss.

"My mother came from here." Says Isabella as she stands at the wheel, not trusting Hawke to manage this with all the rocks about. "She said she left because she didn't 'fit in'. Every time I see it I can't think how, she was as miserable as this place, always seemed to me that she would 'fit in' perfectly. Tell Cavall to find somewhere to hide, I don't think people here will be ready for him just yet."

As the gangplank goes down, Hawke catches sight of Damian, the big man running at a pace she would never have thought his large frame would allow. Before the gangplank is properly secure, he runs up to grab Isabella in his large tattooed arms and lifts her to kiss her full on the lips. The sniggers from the crew grow louder and longer as the man holds her there for what seems like an unseemly length of time. He stops kissing her only to crush her into his chest.

"I thought I'd lost you again, you should not do that to me woman." His smile stretches wide when he holds her out in front of him again, "Do you love me yet?"

"Not a bit, but keep that up and we might have something to discuss." She says as she grabs his crotch, rubbing her hand up and down.

The man rolls his eyes, visibly struggling in trying not to give in to his body's desires and take her to the nearest spot where he can break their agreement in unadulterated pleasure. Isabella smirks at Hawke, "Won't be long now." before going to talk with the Harbour Master.

Seere's only inn is bereft of custom save for the one patron who leaves as they all enter. The noise and clatter they make as out of place in this austere room as the young man who smiles at them from behind the bar. His brown eyes glitter as once more his hopes are lifted that somehow this bunch of sailors might change the life that has been laid out before him when every other crew that has ever graced this tavern have failed to live up to his dreams.

"Welcome to the 'Boiled Barnacle'. I am Sol. What can I get you?"

Isabella looks the tall dark haired youth up and down appreciatively before sighing, "Drinks all round, for anything else; I think Charade here will happily let you know." Charade giggles delightedly, happy to be thought of being in training to fill Isabella's shoes in the department of exploring the carnal delights of every port they will visit from now on. Hawke looks long at her, unsure of this development in her cousin's career. Her uncle would have apoplexy if he knew what his daughter was getting up to, but it has not been Hawke's way to interfere with how other's want to lead their lives. Unless what they want to do involves stopping her lead her life, usually in a permanent way. Charade's apparent hero worship of Isabella seemed to be gathering momentum. Hawke found herself wondering if, as her cousin, she should be doing something to stop this, but as she watched Charade fail to match Isabella's blasé demure with the prospective bed partner, thought that it might be better to leave this one be. Her cousin will find her own way once she realised she can never be Isabella, she can only be Charade.

The room fills with the chatter and exclamations of sailors, slowly and steadily more drunkenly relating the trials of the last storm. Hawke finds herself quietly moving towards the edge of the circle, not willing to listen once more to all that happened when everything nearly stopped for her and Fenris. Distraction comes when she spies an older man come through from the back of the bar, a frown appearing on his brow when his eye catches what must be his son, as they look so alike, in the clutches of Charade.

"I apologise for the noise ser, just sailors relieved at their current state of being able to draw breath still after the storm."

The man's frown remains as he turns to look at her, "You lot were out in that? Fools if you ask me. Only fools would have found themselves caught in that." He speaks gruffly at her, clearly displeased at the rabble he now has in his bar, yet Hawke thought he might be a little happier that his bar is seeing custom it obviously has not seen in a while.

"I think I can safely say it wasn't intentional."

The frown fades, "Excuse me lass, I didn't mean to be so harsh. It's just...Seere is having trouble with folks being happy right now."

"From the look of Seere when we arrived, I thought Seere had trouble with people being happy any time."

The man gives a small smirk at her comment, "Aye, its true. Not ones for showing the whites of our teeth much in this place, never have been. Worse lately. Slavers came here a few months back, took all the kids. All of them except my boy Sol there. The one lad desperate to leave this place and the only one left behind when those bastards came."

Hawke holds her breath. Slavers stealing children again, only it sounds like they managed to leave with their cargo this time. No wonder this man is abrupt with his words. Remembering to breathe again, she asks the man what happened.

"Don't know how they managed it, came into Seere in the dead of night. No one to see them, after all, who would be daft enough to try to navigate our port entrance in the dark? Bad enough when there is light to show the way, but to do that in the dead of night... Snuck in all the houses, took all of them kids right out of their beds. Must have knocked them out, no noise made, not until the last of them. Little Will Humble woke up and screamed his lungs out, must have run out of the sleepy juice or whatever it was they were using to keep them quiet, not one had come round before that. That was the start, woke up enough of us to get up and realise something was happening, but too late to do anything but stand quayside and watch the ship leave.

All our kids...just gone. I've been making the lad sleep in the cellar, afraid he was going to run off. Probably the reason they didn't get him. Wish we had been making all the kids sleep in cellars now."

Hawke cannot articulate what she wants to say. The man is torn with grief for his neighbours, yet the relief that his own son remains is clear. This place was enough of a ghost town from what Isabella had said before, but now without its children, what little lifeblood there was has been ripped away. She cannot bring herself to tell him of their experience with the slavers in Rialto, she would only pour salt into the wounds, when they realise most of their children would likely be dead.

"What did you do? Has anyone gone after them?"

"No idea where to start. The ship left when it was still dark, we didn't even see what direction they went in. Most likely Tevinter, they trade in slaves, but it's a big place, where would we look? One of the witches was called in, but she could divine nothing. They left leaving no trace of who they were or where they went. Really caught us on the hop, we've never been raided by slavers before, never been raided at night. Tevinter usually deal in elves for their slaves, why would they start hunting for kids now?

When crews come in, like your lot, we ask them to keep an eye out. What more can we do? There are stories of children being taken from other places over the last few months, but no one has any information. The local guard do nothing, too lost in their cups. Word is the Templars at Dairsmuid are too involved with keeping their mages under control; they are not interested in helping out a bunch of apostate mages. We have a man guard the quay at night, but what is the point of doing that now? It will be years before Seere recovers from this, if we ever do. A whole generation gone." He hangs his head in sadness.

"You are _all_ free mages here?" Hawke asks, not wanting to reveal what they have found out until she knows more of these people.

The man gives her a small smile, "Not all of us, but magic talent runs strong in people in Seere. We don't see eye to eye with the Templars. Most of those with talent take a shack up in the hills. Few want to go to the Circle. Steer clear of the hills while you're here, the witches don't take kindly to strangers."

"Do the mages truly live here untroubled?" Hawke asks hopefully. The barman scoffs at her.

"Absolutely not. The Templars come and round up a few every so often. It's pitiful. Magic talent may run strong, but it is rare that it runs strong in one individual. Most of them have only one sort of magic talent, so one mage on their own is little threat to anyone. Templars insist that any talent that shows requires training, so they come and take a few away. They never catch them all though. Too spread out up in the hills like I said. Some of them scratch a living travelling round the villages and small holds. We see them only when they come down here, usually to visit family they have left. Not sure myself which is the better life, hiding up there in the hills or imprisoned in a circle, neither one is a good option to my way of thinking."

Hawke nods, understanding now that Seere may not be the mage sanctuary she hoped. If their magic was not strong it might account for them consorting with demons as Isabella had said, to bolster what they had. This was definitely not an option for Alano. "I'll ask my friends about the slavers, they might know something that could help."

"That would be appreciated lass. Ask also that they keep the noise down. The people around here don't like other people's revelries to intrude in their grief. They've lost too much; your friends should respect that."

Hawke catches Isabella and relates the barman's tale. As everyone catches up with the sorry account of the lost children of Seere the noise fades and crew start drifting back to their ships. All except Isabella, Damian, Argo and Barzal who stay long into the night, sharing their storm stories, discussing what each ship will carry on the next leg of their journey and debating on names for their ships.

* * *

><p>"Why didn't you tell him Hawke? The people here are living through this terrible thing and you did not tell him what we know. They deserve a chance to get their children back!" Varania's pained look cuts at Hawke, but it does not change her mind,<p>

"What do we know Varania? We have a name and a supposition that it is possibly Danarius' son, that is all. It is too little. These poor people will do something stupid with the information; they will head to Tevinter and get themselves killed. We cannot let them do it. Until we know more about this, we can do nothing. All we know now is that there is possibly some more children who need saving. We need to get to Minrathous and find out more. I promise we will stop this, but we need to know more."

Varania paces the floor of the cabin, still not liking what Hawke is saying, "What if it was your child they had taken? Would you not want to know this and get them back?"

"That's why I didn't tell him. If it were my child, I would race to Tevinter without any thought in my head but getting them back. Varania, it is the lack of thought and overwhelming emotion that would get me killed. _We_ are their chance; we do not know these children and we can think clearly. If there is any way those children can be brought back we will find it, but you know from what we saw in Rialto there is little chance that they will still be alive. I won't raise these people's hopes to have them flung headlong into grief again."

Fenris moves to place himself in front of his sister and stop her pacing, "She's right Varania, you know this. People do stupid things when it is their own family involved."

Varania glares at him; angry with his unsubtle reminder of how she was willing to trade his freedom for her own advancement, but the point is made. "Damn you brother." She turns to look at Hawke and her shoulders slump, "He's right too. I do know this. I just find myself filling with fear the closer we get back to that place. How many more dangers are we going to meet before we even get there?" She waves her brother away from her and sits down at the table with her head in her hands.

"Forgive me; the storm and the healing of that poor man on Argo's ship have taken their toll on me. I just get scared. Scared of what may happen to all of us. I wanted these people to do the job for us. One less thing to worry about."

"You could stay here if you wanted. You don't have to come any further with us if it's too much." Fenris takes her hand, doubts filling him at the wisdom of his sister coming with them on this journey.

"No! I am coming with you. I just need some time. You two have been doing this sort of thing for years; I just need time to adjust. I came on this journey to get to know my brother again and I am doing that and so much more. I want to continue, besides, if you are going to do this right you will need me."

Fenris looks at his sister dumbstruck, Hawke understands his shock. "We will need you?"

Varania lifts her head to look at both of them, her fear dissipating and determination creeping back into her voice. "Yes, you will need me. There is one skill I have that none of the rest of you can bring to this quest. My needlecraft. I told you in Antiva that I know all the tricks the magisters use. The outfits I am making for you have all these tricks crafted into them. No magister knows all of them. I do. That tailor may have been a bastard to me, but he trained me well. I will make you as safe as I can, I will arm you with far more than blades, bows or staff alone can do. The magisters will not be able to use any of those tricks on you, as you will know them all. I will not let them harm you with any of their trickery. You are my family and I will do everything in my power to protect you. I will never be as strong in my magic as you are Hawke, but I have a skill that you may never master and I want to share it."

Varania takes a breath as Hawke looks to Fenris and sees how her speech has chased any lingering doubts he had over her loyalty away.

"There is something I need before I can complete them. I need lyrium and Harral. They will need enchanted and I want it done well. Harral says that every chantry keeps a stock of lyrium even if Templars are with them or not. If there is a chantry in Seere, we could get theirs."

Hawke cannot hide her surprise, a moment ago, this woman was trembling with fear at what this journey might hold for them and now she was urging them to head straight into another venture, which might give Templars even more reason to chase after them.

"You want us to plan a heist on a Chantry?"

"From what I understand, it's the only way we can get it." Varania smiles serenely at Hawke.

"We could have got it in Llomeryn. They had enough smuggled there; if you had told us then I'm sure we could have got a supply of the stuff."

"Maybe Hawke, but you could not trust the purity of smuggled lyrium. The chantry stock is always pure, or so Harral says. For good enchantment we need the best."

* * *

><p>Isabella laughs when she hears Varania's request when Hawke tells her the next day, "Oh I love getting one up on those self righteous party poopers! However, this will not be much of a challenge here. The Chantry here is tiny, most of the people round here don't go near it, the maker is not made as welcome here as other places. Our gods are far more interesting and they are not celebrated for ignoring you! Daft buggers, why worship something that does not take a blind bit of notice of you!<p>

Tell you what, we will do it tonight, we will be leaving here first thing tomorrow morning, so we'll be off before the Chantry even notices and long gone before any Templars get here to help out. This will be such fun! I haven't done any stealing in a long time, always good to keep my skills honed."

"We?" Hawke states a little disappointedly. She was tired and still feeling the effects of the aftermath of her trials of the storm. Just this once she had hoped someone else might do the job without her. Isabella does not notice the tone of her voice, caught up in the excitement of a little old fashioned burglary.

"Just us. This is an easy job Hawke, but it is a Chantry, there are too many Maker worshippers in the rest of the crew, they might object. It's easier done with just us two. A little sleep spell from you to make sure the Revered Mother stays snuggled up in her blankets and I can pick the lock. Easy peasy!"

Isabella had not been wrong. There was no one about this place at night. No one to see them sneaking through the unlit paths between the homes of the residents. No one to catch them as they silently passed by dark windows. The Chantry was right at the back of the cottages, well out of sight of even the lone guard at the quay. The door to the small stone building had not even been locked. Moonlight shone through the arched windows as they made their way up the isle towards the small altar, the room unadorned except for a well-worn copy of the Chant on the pedestal. They found the small room where the lone woman in the building was snoring gently in a small wooden cot. Hawke cast the sleep spell even though she hardly thought it was required; it looked like nothing would disturb her in her deep sleep.

The hatch to the cellar where Isabella thought was the likely place for the lyrium store was locked, but the speed at which Isabella unpicked it showed how little threat from theft this Chantry thought it had mistakenly thinking they didn't have anything to steal. It was when they stepped onto the ladder when it happened. Hawke had barely started the spell to light up the glow at the top of her staff. She heard only a small intake of breath, no time to put up her magical shields before it all went black...

The overwhelming nausea was what Hawke was first aware of when she began to come round. As she sat up, it was what took over and she turned to retch what little there was of her stomach contents onto the stone floor. Isabella's small snicker was heard a small distance away and told Hawke that at least neither of them were dead.

"At long last, I thought you were going to stay out cold forever Hawke. What do you make of our lovely new accommodations?"

Hawke wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, the need to vomit lessened but not gone, before she managed to open her eyes and determine where they were. The small cave was lit by the white shimmer of the barrier across the entrance, the tell tale blue of a lyrium vein at their back. The drip of water to the far right fell into a wooden cup, the only other thing in the cave with them. Hawke reached for it to drink and take away the bad taste left after being sick, the water tasted wonderful, clear and cool with only a slight taste of the minerals it had picked up as it had made its way through the rock.

"Where are we?" Hawke managed to mumble, still not feeling too well.

"I'm pretty sure we are somewhere in the hills around Seere. The old hag you can just see holding that barrier in place has the look of a witch about her, so I do not think we have come far. So hurry up, pull yourself together, do your finger twiddly thing and break down that bloody barrier so we can get out of here. I do not think the old bitch will be hard to deal with, even with only my bare hands. There's at least one more of them out there, but she's gone off, this is a good time to do it."

Hawke stands to take a deep breath before going over to the barrier. She can see the woman Isabella mentioned through the haze, who grins back at her maliciously as she sits cross-legged surrounded by bottles of what Hawke can only surmise is lyrium potions to help her maintain the barrier. She reaches out to touch the shimmer and can tell instantly that this barrier is not one that she can remove. She hears the woman cackle at her, she knows how strong her barrier is and knows that it cannot be breached.

"Sorry Isabella, this thing will take more than I've got to get rid of. Looks like we are stuck here for the moment. Any idea what they want with us?"

Isabella shrugs, evidently nonplussed that escape from the cave is not forthcoming at this time. "Well, we're still alive, so I don't think they are going to kill us. Other than that, I could not say. Looks like we will just have to wait on someone coming to rescue us, Fenris knows how to find you, stubborn bastard that he is he'll come looking soon enough. I hope he brings Damian with him, he won't be able to resist post-rescue sex, I can't wait!"

Hawke looks at her in dismay, "Is that all you think about?"

Isabella gives an impish grin, "Pretty much. Damian's a challenge now and I'm going to win this one."

"I thought you were to contemplate your feelings about him, divine what it meant to have a more meaningful relationship with him, figure out if you actually loved him? Not think of ways in which you could just force him into fucking you."

"Ouch!" Isabella's winces "Don't couch your words, do you Hawke?" Isabella pats the stone at her side, "Sit down with me, I suppose we've got time to talk."

Hawke looks at her suspiciously, here they are trapped and Isabella thinks this is a good time for them to converse. Isabella rarely wants to 'talk', usually she bluffs her way through with snark and jokes, skirting around any issue. The only times she's been able to get Isabella to reveal her feelings is when she's been worried or upset, neither of which she is right now. Is this how it is done? Put her in a situation where she can do nothing else and then you might get glimpses of what is actually going on in her head. If so, then Damian might find this information useful. Only if they manage to get out of here and back to him. Not sure if Isabella means what she says, she nevertheless sits down beside her, hopeful that something positive might come out of their incarceration.

The nausea is still there and she is finding it hard to think straight. Maybe Isabella is right, they are in no apparent danger of their lives, if Isabella thinks this is a good time for some girl talk then so be it, perhaps sitting for a while will help clear her head and she can figure out what to do. That Fenris will come searching, Hawke has no doubt, but they have no idea how long they have been here and he could be asleep still in their bed, completely unaware that anything is wrong yet. Relying on others to get her out of things is not what she is used to doing, but for now, they can do nothing else.

"All right, you want to talk, tell me how you really feel about Damian." Isabella bows her head. She had thought this chat might start gently, but Hawke is obviously in no mood to let her off the hook. Isabella wonders if suggesting that they talk was such a good idea, but what else are they to do to pass the time in this dripping prison? "He's a good man Isabella; he doesn't deserve to have you toying with him like this."

Isabella laughs back at her, "A 'good man' Hawke? He's a pirate, a thief and a murderer, how does that make him good?"

"As leader of the Raiders he changed them, whether they know it or not, they've started on a more honourable path, which is his doing. He cares about people, he cares about you. Good people don't always find themselves in good places, it is what they do when they are there that shows how good they are."

"Hawke there are times when I wish I had never met you. Things were simpler when I just had to do a few unsavoury jobs and make sure my ship stayed afloat." She looks at her hands, Hawke is her friend and if she has to talk about this before getting to the real reason for her chat, then maybe a bit of opening up to her will have to be done. "I do think about what Damian means to me. I spent years thinking that no one gave a damn about what happened to me. Meeting you changed everything. You helped me when no one else would. When Damian reappeared, it threw me. I mean really threw me; well you know how much, you saw how it affected me. Here was someone who had given a damn about me all that time and I hadn't known." Isabella stops, reflecting on that moment when she knew Damian had not just ran off and left her to get on with things. Hawke wondered what it must be like not to have any real friends or family around you, something she had never known. Perhaps it turned you into someone like Isabella, afraid to let yourself get too close, afraid that once again you would just be betrayed and left on your own again. Lose yourself in empty pleasures and forget for a while that the world is a cold and loveless place.

"When you went over the side of the ship, I understood at last what love meant. I thought you were gone forever. I thought Fenris was mad with grief and that was why he needed to search. I never thought he would find you. I said I did not know what love was and until I was sure, I could not tell Damian I loved him. When we lost you, I realised I did know what it was because I love you." Isabella smirks and pats Hawke's hand,

"Do I love Damian? Of course, I love that big, tall, handsome bastard. I only thought I didn't because I thought he had left me to rot in hell with that shit of a brother of his. That night when we met him again, I remember coming around from that drunken stupor for a while and listening to you three talk and something he said stuck in my head, 'Just because they break your heart doesn't mean the lovin' 'em stops.' You knew what he meant right away. It has just taken me a little longer. All that time I thought I hated him, but all I really hated was what I thought he had done to me."

Isabella sniffs and wipes away the small tear that has gathered at the corner of her eye with her sleeve.

"All right Hawke, so now you know and if you tell another soul before I'm ready to admit it to him then I might just be willing to give up our friendship and kill you anyway... Let me toy with him a little longer, we are having fun with this little game of ours."

Hawke shakes her head and laughs, "I see you haven't given up the complete tart persona just yet. Fine, I won't tell a soul, not even Fenris if that's what you want."

Isabella crosses her legs and puts her hands on her lap, looking smug, "Well I've confessed my little secret, now it's your turn."

Hawke looks at her puzzled, "What do you mean? I've no secrets from you."

Isabella rolls her eyes, "Come on now, and don't be coy. You keep a couple of secrets. There is the one about what Fenris is like in bed. I have wanted to know that one for years and you have never talked, but that is not the one I am talking about. This one is more recent."

Hawke looks at her blankly having no idea what she is talking about.

"You do know what I mean. Your mabari has crunched. The donation in your Chantry. The Korcari in your wilds. The little treasure in your Deep Roads. The Qunari in your qunt?"

"What?" Isabella stares at her in disbelief, trying to discern if Hawke is just trying to keep her secret a little longer or really does not know what she is talking about. The continued look of bafflement on her face tells her which one it is.

"Oh you poor kitten, you really don't know? I just thought you were afraid to tell me. Not that you could keep it secret forever." Isabella chuckles rolling her hands in an arc in front of her stomach. "You're knocked up Hawke! You're pregnant!"

Hawke just gawps at Isabella, not really registering what she has just said. This cannot be... can it?

"By the Gods Hawke, for someone who knows all the parts of the body which will cause death to someone, you really have no idea what happens to it when life starts. Look at your tits; has Fenris not passed comment on how they have grown a bit? Shit, if they grow much more you will look like me! Moreover, look at your hips, they have spread. The guys have started talking about your ass again. You have been turning your nose up at the beer and wine and the number of times you have had to break for a call of nature is unbelievable. Now you are throwing up. Don't tell me you haven't noticed any of those things."

"I just thought I had put on a little weight, we're not running about Kirkwall any more, I just thought I wasn't using up as much energy. Falling into the sea has just knocked the stuffing out of me for a bit hasn't it?" Hawke states quietly, trying to think of the other explanations for what Isabella is saying.

"Are you daft? If anything, the work you do on board is harder and the signs were there before the storm hit us. Look, when I have women on board I keep track of their cycles, as captain I need to know. Orana does the laundry and lets me know, you have missed one, maybe two. Don't you remember your last one?"

"I...I...can't think...Rialto...Yes! It was Rialto!"

"It's been a while since we left Rialto Hawke. If that was the last time..." Isabella says gently, leaving Hawke to do the sums.

"But Fenris is an elf...I didn't think..."

"Oh for crying out loud Hawke, you met Feynriel and his mother, of course it was possible!" Isabella is beginning to lose patience with her friend's inability to accept her condition. "If you didn't want this, there are herbs you could have taken. I know all of them and you never asked. You two have been at it like rabbits, the walls on board are very thin you know. There are consequences to it; you do know this don't you?"

"Yes of course I know! I do want this! I heard it wasn't easy for an elf and a human, I just didn't think it would happen so soon!"

"Well it's gone and happened now. What are you going to do about it?"

Hawke ignores Isabella's question and stops to ponder, "I'm really going to have a baby Isabella?"

"Yes you are you silly mare, now again, what are you going to do?"

Hawke leans back, oblivious to the sharp edges of the cave wall or Isabella's intent stare. "I'm going to be a mother, isn't that amazing? Do you think Fenris will be pleased?"

Isabella's eyes open wide and she looks at Hawke realising for the moment that the knowledge has finally sunk in, "What do I care if Fenris will be pleased or not? And yes, I suppose for you it is a little amazing. A bit inconvenient though isn't it? Considering we're on our way to the Gods know what in Tevinter."

"Shit, I forgot about that. It shouldn't be a problem though will it?"

Isabella looks hard at her friend, wondering what alternative universe she has travelled off to in her head. "Oh no Hawke, nothing to worry about at all, just a few nasty mages that are likely to be firing death spells at you. Slavers who do not give a shit about ending the lives of children and do not forget that folks in Tevinter are quite familiar with demons. I'm sure they'll all stop for a while and make sure your little mite gets born." She says sarcastically.

"That's not what I meant!" Hawke states angrily, "I mean we'll get there and deal with what we have to with plenty of time left to spare. It will not make me any less capable. It doesn't need to change anything does it?"

"That depends Hawke, depends on how long it takes us to get there, a few more obstacles like the ones we've had and it could be cutting it fine. I do not know if carrying a little extra weight up front will affect your ability to cast spells, but I am pretty sure it will slow you down a bit, if you need to get up close and personal. You will be in danger, you could die for good this time and then your child will never see the light of day. Do you want to risk it?"

Hawke sinks back into the wall again closing her eyes before answering. "The slavers have to be stopped Isabella. The people here in Seere have lost their children to them and who knows how many other people. I would not like my child to be lost to them. If Feynriel is lost to the magisters then Tevinter will use him to start expanding their empire again. Then there is Orana, I promised her we would get her Poppa back, I cannot ask her to exchange his life for my child. Yes, I think it is a risk I have to take."

"Fenris won't like it. This is his child too remember."

"No he won't. But as a child lost to slavery himself, I think he'll understand." Hawke turns to look at her friend, curious about something she said, "Why did you think I would be afraid to tell you about the baby?"

Isabella's face turns grim as she answers, "Because usually when that happens, the sailor's employment is terminated. You'll have to leave."

"You're going to kick me off the ship?"

"Normally I would Hawke; I'd give you enough coin to get you started on land life again and drop you off at the nearest port. It is only because it is you that I ask what you plan to do. You can stay on the ship for now, but you will have to leave us at some point. Babies and a life riding on the ocean do not mix. As soon as that baby is born, you become a passenger, not a member of the crew."

Suddenly the barrier at the entrance to the cave disappears and a young girl walks towards them, a look of awe on her face.

"You're going after the slavers?"

Hawke and Isabella look at each other before turning back to look at the girl standing before them. Her long hair is twisted into braids with twigs and dried flowers woven in. The rags she wears barely cover her dignity and fail completely to hide her emaciated frame. Her large blue eyes blink owlishly at them as she waits for a response.

Hawke can feel Isabella's muscles tense as she readies to jump up at the girl, ready to knock her flat and make their escape from the cave. Hawke can feel the same desire to do just that tickle at her, but something stops her and she lays a steadying hand on Isabella, indicating to hold off.

"Stop the slavers? Sure, it's what we've been planning to do for a while."

The girl looks at them twirling a braid with one hand and chewing the nails of the other, "I knew this was a bad idea, what do you say Gracie?"

The old woman who had been holding the barrier in place limps into the cave, all cackling maliciousness having left her. "Bugger these old bones Trix, I say we tell Morla they fucked off and got us good. She'll never believe us, but if they do what they say they're gonna do, the kicking she'll give us will be worth it."

"Who is Morla?" Hawke asks, thinking that unless Morla is as wasted in the body as these two, one swift kick in the right place will kill them, clearly not worth it for them.

It is Gracie who speaks up, spit flying out from her toothless mouth, "The bitch that had the idea to catch you and give you to the Templars. Thought it would keep them off our backs. But if you've got a babe on the way and you stop those slavers, I'll gladly go to the Circle for what's left of my days instead. Trix is right. This was a bad idea." She waves at them to stand up and make their way out of the cave, ready to lead them back to Seere.

Hawke stands up to quickly walk over and place a hand at Gracie's back, "Wait. Where is this Morla?"

Trix and Gracie look at each other, Gracie nods and Trix speaks this time, "She's close, we've got time to get you out, this is not the place to talk."

The two lead them out of the cave into a warren of tunnels that twist and turn before Trix leads them through a waterfall curtain at the entrance into the open air of the mountainside. Seere is visible a short way down in the pale light that appears with the sunrise. Hawke breaths the morning air deep into her lungs. The world is different now. The new life inside her has seen to that.

* * *

><p>Fenris had been waiting on the deck, reading the book by the light of the lantern, waiting for them both to return. He knew it was likely to be an easy job for them, but no amount of reassurance from either of them could take away the niggle of worry from his mind. He read the same passage several times without remembering what it was about, concentration gone while she was away. He had not thought being apart from her for the short while this was supposed to take would be so hard. Since the storm he had been aware that his feelings of protectiveness had gone into overdrive and was afraid, he would end up as Hamahakis had. It had taken such an effort to hold back, not to follow when she went off to talk with anyone else. This venture to get the lyrium should have been easy to sit out. Let her go off with Isabella and come back safe and sound and he could tell himself he was just being jumpy unnecessarily. When they came back, he could relax and the next time she went off it would be even easier.<p>

As the time passed he was unable to gauge how long they had been away, should they be back by now? He had put the book down and started pacing, trying to think if he was just being neurotic and if he raised the alarm, would he get those knowing looks from the others, the ones that tell him he is being an idiot again – 'Don't worry about the elf, he's just in love', Merrill's 'puppy eyes' thing all over again. It is not until Damian approaches the ship and asks if they have returned that Fenris allows himself to give in to his concern. Rubbing the ring, he can sense in what direction she has gone has changed, and that she is moving further away, something is wrong.

The two men run first to the Chantry, where they are supposed to have gone. The woman in the bed there cannot be woken; they find the unlocked hatch to the cellar and discover the lyrium chest still locked. There is nothing else they can do except head in the direction the ring tells them Hawke has gone. The search proves futile, the cliffs and rock of the mountain bar the way in which they need to head. Fenris growls his frustration at knowing where she is, but unable to get there.

"This is pointless." says Damian. "It's dark and we can't see anything. If there is a way into this rock, we will not find it until daylight. We'll wait here until the sun comes up, you keep rubbing that ring, if they move, we'll move."

While worried about where the two women might be, Damian is not overly concerned. He has heard too many stories of Isabella's exploits and knows that she is more than capable of handling whatever situation she has found herself in. Hawke he does not know that well, but she seems capable enough. He might not have come on this nighttime adventure were it not for the anxiety of the elf. Content to wait back at the ship, knowing the pair would likely turn up with another story to tell. He watches him pace up and down, rubbing frantically at the ring and thinks he understands why the man is so fraught.

"She'll be all right you know. The witches are known to take good care of their kidnap victims."

Fenris stops suddenly in his pacing to look at Damian, "You know what's happened to them?"

Damian tilts his head to one side, "Don't know for sure, but the witches have been known to ferret away some sailor for a while and demand a ransom for them. Their demand is rarely that great and usually their captain pays it. It's just seen as one of the hazards of coming to Seere, like paying taxes."

"Why didn't you warn us about this?"

"I didn't think it would be problem. It is usually only some poor drunken sod that cannot find his way back to his ship that they pick on. Our lot haven't been getting that drunk, not after hearing about what happened here. Besides, I've rarely grudged paying any ransom, I've always felt sorry for those poor bastards caught living up here and the silly bugger they've got hold of always came back safe and sound."

Fenris shakes his head, "If you knew this, then why did you come with me half way up a mountain to search for two women that will probably turn up safe and well?"

"Can't be sure they've not been kidnapped and considering the state of your missus, I knew you would feel better doing something." Damian says trying to let the man know he sympathises with him.

"Hawke's not in any state! She's fully recovered from being lost at sea!" Fenris knows he is missing something, the man is trying to tell him he understands, but he is having difficulty figuring out what he is being understanding about. The only person who ever does this with him is Hawke, why is this man doing it now?

"I'm not talking about that! I'm talking about the bairn!" It is only then that Damian realises that Fenris does not know about his impending fatherhood and finding out in the dead of night on a mountainside from a man who is still much of a stranger to him is far from ideal. "Blast it, I thought you knew."

"What are you talking about? What's a bairn?"

Damian runs his fingers through his hair. How did he get himself into this mess? He should not be the one doing this, but it has gone too far, he cannot stop and tell the man to go and find his missing wife for an explanation.

"A bairn is a child elf. Your Hawke is going to be a mother and it's your child she is going to be mother to. She should have told you this herself. Isabella told me last night only because she is worried that you were both afraid to tell her.

Fenris stares out into the darkness, finding it hard to believe what Damian has just told him. Yet what was hard about it? Aveline had told him he should give her children, Carver had practically begged him to and Varric had teased him about women falling over themselves to have his 'broody babies'. He felt that frisson run through his body he got every time he thought of lying with her, it was not as if they had done anything to prevent it, they had encouraged it, wanted it. Why should he be so surprised? Because a small part of him still felt like a slave who did not deserve to have things like this happen. Would his past never let him go? The tingle at his finger brings him out of his reverie; whatever it means for them will have to wait.

"They're moving. Let's go."

* * *

><p>"You can find your way back from here." Gracie says, about to turn around with Trix and head back through the waterfall.<p>

Hawke grabs for her hand to stop her, "Please wait. You helped us and it does not sound like this Morla will be happy about it. Maybe we can help you and return the favour."

"Are you insane Hawke?" Isabella screeches at her, "Don't forget these are the folk that put us in that cave, they deserve whatever is coming for them."

"Desperate people do desperate things and you can't deny these two look pretty desperate!" turning back to Gracie, Hawke speaks more gently, "Is there somewhere safe we can talk?"

"There's Glitterglade Cave, it's up this way," Trix states looking to Gracie for affirmation that this is something they should do. Gracie nods and leads them upstream from the waterfall.

Hawke sees the dark patch in the rock that Trix points to, indicating that is where they are heading when Damian's voice booms out behind them,

"Are you sure you're heading the right way ladies?"

Isabella's face beams as she catches sight of him and puts her hand on her hip to sway sensually in his direction, "What took you so long? We're heading exactly the way we want to go."

He picks his way along the stream to stand in front of her, "Isabella, I think I screwed up bad. I thought he knew, but he didn't." He says glancing over to Fenris rushing headlong to Hawke and gathers her up in his arms."

"Looks like you did him a favour. She didn't know either...for someone who is so smart; she can be really dumb at times." Isabella pats him reassuringly on the shoulder.

"That'll be the daddy then?" Gracie says, looking Fenris critically up and down, "You didn't say he was an elf."

"You didn't ask old witch. You just listened in on a private conversation." Isabella sneers at her.

Gracie folds her arms to turn and give Damian the once over, "And I suppose this is the one you mentioned. You're right, I would play some more with that one as well."

Isabella scowls while blushing furiously at the old woman, not having realised how much of her conversation with Hawke the old hag had been listening in to.

"You've been talking about me?" Damian queries at Isabella who turns to glare at old Gracie. The old woman just waves her off,

"Bah! If she hadn't been, we wouldn't be here. Come on; let's get out of the open before Morla spies us."

Fenris pushes Hawke gently away from him to place a hand on her belly, "Damian says you..."

"Isabella told me." She says and puts both her hands on top of his and looks into his eyes trying to see if they give something away of his thoughts about it as he does the same with her.

"Please hurry." Trix wails at them, a look of panic on her face.

"Later Hawke."

"Yes, later my love."


	10. Chapter 10

After Kirkwall – 10

Hawke takes a sharp intake of breath as she exits the small opening of the tunnel leading into Glitterglade Cave. A shaft of light comes down from the hole in the ceiling to light up the large tree in the centre. Flowers and grass pooling on the floor around it. The recesses of the cave glow from the lyrium veins rising up from the floor. On every wall there are gems reflecting back the light, looking like stars in the night sky. It is not hard to figure out why they gave this place its name.

"You witches could make a fortune if you mined this place." Damian whispers.

"Don't be so bloody daft!" Gracie chides him. "If the Chantry ever found out we would have Templars on our heads in droves and then where would we be then? Not free in these hills, that's for sure." She turns to Hawke, "Right then, you said you could help and we brought you here, what can you do?"

Hawke gives a small smile at the old harridan, straight to the point she is. "Tell me more of yourselves so I can decide how best I can do it."

The old woman harrumphs as she stands with her arms folded tightly across her chest. Trix is the one who starts talking, casting glances at Gracie as she speaks,

"You'll need to know more about Morla. She has always been able to tell bits of what is about to happen, but she was never much good at it until she got her demon. That is when she knew a large group of Templars would be coming. She said the mages in Dairsmuid would fall and when that happened, they would come for all of us. She foretold of a mage who could be the saviour of us all if we were prepared to sacrifice one of our own. We think she meant you."

"Why would sacrificing one mage save all of you from the Templar's wrath?" Damian asks.

"Because I'm the Champion of Kirkwall Damian." Hawke looks at him sadly, "The one who started the war. Capture me and they would not give a damn about any free mages running about the hills up here. It's not a bad plan."

"'Champion of Kirkwall! By the balls of the Sea Gods, even I've heard of you! Morla didn't tell us that, no wonder the bitch is so sure her plan would work!"

Hawke frowns, not sure if impressing Gracie is a good thing. Does Morla actually know who she is? If word had managed to get out of her trail, they would have to be more discreet, "How do you mages organise yourselves?"

"Hah!" Gracie blurts out, "We couldn't organise an orgy in a whorehouse! Until Morla, we've just looked out for ourselves. There are very few of us that have more than one magical talent, the closest we get to organising ourselves is when we barter between us for talents or kidnap the odd sailor for a bit of coin. We barely talk to each other most of the time."

"How did Morla change things?"

"She started with me." Trix pipes up, "My talent is pretty dumb, all I can do is tell when mages are about. I didn't think it was much use, but Morla persuaded me I could play a big part in her plan. I found all the mages in the hills for her, acted like a courier to get them to come to her so she could tell them how they could help and then she told me to look out for a mage coming into port. Derval's the one who knocked you out with his blast at the Chantry, Herron and Pauli took you both up to the cave, Herron levitates, and Pauli pushes."

"Could be handy to have those two on the crew." Isabella whispers to Damian.

"Gracie you know does barriers. Cory can do some illusions, Petra can call animals to her, Elias can send out fire bolts, but his magic is erratic and Fru can call a small storm, but she never told me how they were to help. Marta does some healing, but she didn't get me to find her. Davida and Welman weren't called either, but they have demons in them, maybe that's why."

"You two seem to get on well together, did working with Morla make you friends?"

"No." Trix explains, "Gracie's my grandmother. She helps me out, I've not been up here long. I came up just before the slaver raid, just as well or they would have had me too, but they got my little brother."

"That's why you helped us get out of there. You want him back."

Trix starts crying and talks through her sniffles, "Gracie doesn't think anyone will be able to get him back, do you gran?"

Gracie barks back, "No. Reckon the lad is a goner. We helped because you are the first person we've heard say they are going to something about those bastards. I doubt you could get the little lad back, but you can stop anyone else from losing their little lad, that's more important that keeping a few selfish mages out of a circle. Morla can go fuck herself if she thinks I'm going to stop you from at least trying to do something. Besides, if you go to that circle, they'll take that babe inside you away as soon as takes its first breath of Thedas air. I don't want to be part of that, just makes me as bad as them slavers. I only agreed to help Morla so them Templars didn't get the girl here. I'll find another way to hide her."

"It won't just be Morla that's pissed at you two when they find out we've gone is it?" Hawke looks at them both. Trix is still sniffling at memories of her lost little brother and Gracie staring at her defiantly, who is fully aware of what she is giving up by helping them, yet willing to pay the terrible price it might cost her. She cannot leave them like this.

"Give me your hands; I want to show you something."

The magic begins to flow between the three women. Gracie's sharp gasp lets Hawke know that she is able to feel what she is doing and Trix starts to giggle in wonder. Hawke learns how Gracie is able to keep her barrier so strong and what it is that Trix senses when she has found a mage. Hopeful that she will remember the skills to try out later with Varania, she continues exploring the weave of their magic. When Hawke draws mana from them she feels their fear build, but before it overwhelms them, she turns it the other way and restores what she has taken from them. As she starts sending her own mana to them their fear disappears and elation begins to take its place. She takes a few moments to shift the mana between each one showing how it can be directed to boost one mages abilities before making it flow back to the state it was in when they first held hands.

"Damn but I'm glad we let you go, "Says Gracie almost reverently, "If I'd known how strong a mage you were, I would never have agreed to Morla's plan in the first place. Where did you learn to do that?"

Trix's face has lit up and she looks at Hawke giggling all the while she is trying to get her words out, "That was...amazing! I can feel your magic inside me. Do it again!"

Hawke sighs and looks at them both, a little disappointed that neither of them picked up on the point she was trying to make with the demonstration, "I didn't do it to show off or entertain you! I wanted you to see that you can do it too!"

"You are kidding, I could never do that!" Trix's giggles stop immediately, shocked at what Hawke is suggesting.

"Nice of you to try lass, but I think that's a trick this old bitch could never learn." Gracie shakes her head.

Hawke sighs; this is going to take more than a few minutes for them to get the hang of. Maybe her expectations were too high. She had to remember how Varania had trouble at first and find some patience with these women. The time she wanted with Fenris would be much later than she hoped.

Isabella and Damian leave them, promising to bring back some food and Varania to help with the teaching of these mages. Fenris stands by the entrance, ready to kill anything that remotely resembles a Morla should she find them.

Hawke spends the rest of the morning trying to get the two women to feel the exchange of mana. It took some convincing for them to believe that they could share mana, but by midday Trix was managing to give enough of her mana to Hawke to heighten the flame she had created in her palm as a visual aid to what she was trying to teach them and Gracie could draw in mana from Hawke to make her barrier last longer without using potions. By mid-afternoon Trix could draw mana from Hawke and widen the radius of her mage sensing ability.

"Marta's nearby! I can feel her!" Trix calls out to Gracie, "What will we do? What if she finds us?"

"The one who heals?" Hawke asks Gracie who nods. "Why don't you invite her in and we can teach her too."

Gracie gives Hawke a wry toothless grin, "Help us help ourselves lass, that's your game isn't it?"

"Best way of all isn't it old mother?" Hawke replies.

The old woman shuffles off to the entrance mumbling and cackling to herself. When she returns, she is talking rapidly to a small white haired woman who is listening intently and nodding her understanding of the quick explanation Gracie is giving her. Trix is the one who gives the demonstration to the newcomer, keen to show off what she has learnt. Marta learns quickly, her healing ability having made her more familiar with the idea of moving mana between people. It is when Hawke is encouraging them to share mana between them without her that Damian returns with Varania and Harral and an unfamiliar man tied up and being pushed in front of them.

Trix put her hands to her mouth when she sees the stranger, "Derval what have you done?"

"Tried to use a bloody mind blast on us!" Damian grumbles, "Just as well Varania was with us, magic shields up quick as a flash. I take it he's one of your lot?" He asks Gracie.

"Yes and no big fella, let me talk to him and see if we can make it just a yes."

"Well make it quick before I have to punch him again and stop him trying to knock me out."

Varania pulls Hawke aside, "Are you all right Hawke? Is everything... as it should be?"

"Isabella told you about the baby as well didn't she?" Hawke asks, annoyed that everyone seemed to be discussing her maternal state except the two people who should be. 'Later' keeps moving further away.

Varania looks at her with sympathy; she can see her mana is almost drained in her efforts to teach the mages, "Isabella said nothing Hawke, I've known for some time only because I take your measurements. I've been waiting for you both to tell me."

Hawke stares at her, "You knew? I did not even know! Does everyone know now?"

"No, not everyone knows, but I'm sure that like me they will be happy for you and my brother." She takes Hawke's hands in hers, "We can discuss it later. You are tired. Let me take over with these mages for a while, you need to rest."

Hawke cannot express how grateful she is to Varania at that moment. At last, someone who has offered to do something in her place.

"Thank you."

Varania hugs her and sends her off to the back of the cave with Fenris to sleep, giving haughty looks to the mages who raise objections to an elf taking over their teaching. Hawke falls asleep to her admonishing them for silly prejudices and if they want to learn they had damned well better get used to her for the next few hours.

Trix's squeal brings her back to the world. Opening her eyes the girl kneels beside her, a look of fear and horror on her face as Fenris' blade stops just short of her throat. His voice growls from behind her, "What do you want?"

"I..I..I thought you should know! Morla's coming here!"

Hawke sits up in an instant pushing the blade away from the girl as she rises, "How far away is she Trix?"

"Not far. A few minutes at best. I felt her when we all joined."

Hawke rushes over to Varania who is at the centre of a circle of the hill mages, Hawke can see by the unfamiliar faces that more have come to the cave and somehow been recruited to the class, but there is no time to ask Varania for details.

"How ready are they sister?"

Varania looks at her calmly, "Not ready enough, but ready for a proper practical lesson."

"You know what they are all capable of, you direct the flow." Varania nods and directs them all to stand in a half circle around the entrance to the cave. Hawke glances at Fenris, who just nods and looks to Damian as they take their posts on either side, blades drawn. As they all fall silent Hawke hears a tapping noise at the back of the cave and turns to see Harral engrossed in his work at a lyrium vein.

Varania shrugs, "We still need the lyrium. Damian said there was plenty up here." Hawke rolls her eyes and asks Harral if he would not mind stopping for the moment.

As the silence becomes complete and the tension among them builds, they can all hear a shuffling sound as someone makes their way towards them. Hawke holds her breath, waiting to see the mage willing to sacrifice her to the Templars.

It seems like an eternity before Morla appears, but at last, a form comes through the darkness and into the glowing light of the cave. Morla is beautiful, tall and lithe with long flowing curls of jet-black hair that fall to her waist in a shining cascade. The animal hides she wears wrap round her figure accentuating her curves and adding allure. Her black eyes glitter as she looks at them all one by one.

"Well, well, well. Not quite what I had in mind, but at least you still have the mage." Her voice drips honey, sweet and inviting, Hawke can feel the pull of persuasiveness as this woman tries to gain control of the people in the room. She can sense the demon working within her; it has given her more than just a boost to her abilities as an oracle.

"And look, you have her friends as well as another mage; the Templars will be easily distracted with so much wealth of illegal magic to deal with. You have done well my people; we will all be safe now."

The determination of the mages in the half circle wavers, Hawke can feel them being drawn back to her cause, can feel her own willpower being drained as the demon-possessed mage continues to talk.

"Oh shut your mouth, you stupid bitch! Put that silver tongue away, we don't need it anymore!"

Gracie's gravelly old voice breaks through the spell that Morla is weaving, "You only want to save us so you can save your own demon hide. Templars catch you and you are dead! They won't be offering you the chance of a cloistered life with lots of mage friends!"

Morla crosses her hands on her bosom in mock offence, "How could you think such a thing my darling Gracie. I merely want to save us all, save our way of life, protect our freedom. When the Templars come they will want to strip us of everything, you will all be prisoners, and surely you do not want that?"

The power of her words shift the sense of the mages back towards her way of thinking, but somehow the old woman is unaffected by this, Hawke wonders if her barrier skills extent to mental ones as well as physical ones as Gracie once again argues back,

"Freedom at the expense of someone else's? Not my way Morla. I'll keep my freedom, but I'll get it for myself, without turning myself into a monster to get it! Now tell that demon to fuck off and come and be part of our party."

For a brief moment Gracie's words make an impact and Morla's face becomes one of terror, the real Morla comes through and Hawke can see her mouth the words 'help me' before disappearing forever. Morla's beautiful features twist and shift and the demon she has lost control of comes through. Morla is beyond her help now.

The demon's deep menacing voice reverberates around the cave walls, "Foolish mortals, you think to deny me?" a wall of fire blasts out of the demon's hand, reaching out to scorch them all into black crisp, but before the front hits them Hawke feels Varania draw in mana from all the mages to put up a shield and protect them from the fire. Hawke gasps in amazement at its strength. Never has she seen Varania put up a shield like that. Like the conductor of an orchestra, Varania turns and faces the mages and throws a hand out to point at one of them and the mana flows directly to him. The grim smile on the man's face does not falter as his levitation spell reaches out, sending the demon off balance as it rises in the air, legs kicking out trying to find a solid surface. Her arm shifts again and points to the man called Derval; his face takes on a serene calm as the mana changes course and fills him up. The mind blast that is thrown out stuns the demon further, rendering the spell it was trying to send out completely nullified. Varania's arm shifts once more, as does the mana flow and a bear appears behind the demon to send it's claws deep into the demon's back, it's large teeth sinking into the demon's twisted neck. The howl of anger and pain from the demon echoes deafeningly around them.

Hawke sends her mana to Varania ready to pool it in with the rest of the mages, but Varania glances at her and shakes her head. The small smile she gives her telling her to let them do this for themselves. Hawke is left to stand and watch and marvel, ready to do something only if needed. Varania points once again to another mage and he stretches both his arms in front of him and the demon is sent flying into the rock walls of the cave, and they all hear the crunch as it's carcass makes contact. Her arm shifts again and this time the mage pulls in the mana and sends out a singular massive fire bolt to blast at the demon. The noise of the explosion rips through the cave. Everyone flinches protecting himself or herself from the blast.

Hands uncurl from heads and bodies straighten up to the sounds of splats as pieces of demon flesh fall around them. All goes quiet as eyes look around and stare at the carnage scattered around the cave.

Trix's giggle breaks the silence and is joined by titters and snickers, building up to outright laughter as the mages take in what they have achieved. Varania bows to them, "No more lessons today I think."

Varania walks slowly over to Hawke a wide smile on her face. Hawke grins back, "That was truly impressive Varania, and how did you manage to get them to that in a few hours? Those people have never worked in synchrony like that, it was beautiful."

Varania reddens at the praise, "I've been watching you do the same thing with all of us. Once they got used to the idea that the only way this was going to work was if they shared it was easy."

"But where did they all come from, there was only four of them when I fell asleep."

"Young Trix. She went out and gathered them up. I think she has some underlying powers of persuasion she does not know about. There is a little problem though Hawke. There is two she brought back who have invited demons into them. I do not think they are as powerful as Morla's one and they have not taken over fully yet. I sent them back; it just did not feel safe to try to pull them into the mana ring. We don't know what a demon would do to us if it was included in that." Varania bites her top lip, "I spoke to Harral, and we can help them if they want their demons gone."

Hawke looks round at the mages, talking excitedly, patting each other on the back, sharing their amazement at what they had managed to do. Varania had been right not to pull her into what they were doing; they would never have gained the confidence that now showed in them, thinking only that they needed her for it to work. They were pulling into a cohesive group now, was it fair that some of them were not allowed in? If the mages of Seere really wanted to help themselves, they needed to continue helping each other, including those who could end up just the same as Morla.

"What did Harral say?" Hawke senses from the look on Varania's face, and what she knows of demons, that she is not going to like this. Her suspicions are borne out as Varania answers.

"It means going into the Fade. He says we have everything here we need, mages and plenty of lyrium. He knows the ritual. As long as those mages want rid of their demons it can be done."

Hawke sighs, "I really hate the Fade. Fighting demons on their own territory. Having them tempt you." Hawke remembers well how Fenris had been tempted with the promise of powers to match a magister. The pain, hurt and sorrow of that event is still fresh to her. The man who hated mages, the man she loved, had wanted those powers enough to turn on her. That demon had taunted her, shown her that Fenris wanted power more than he wanted her. She did not want to face that kind of betrayal again. She knows the image of Morla mouthing 'help me' will haunt her for a long time. If she had arrived sooner, maybe she could have done something. Morla may be well beyond help now, but there are two mages in the hills who are not.

"Ask Trix to bring those mages back here. If they really want this, we'll do it." The feeling of foreboding does not leave her, but these mages need to understand more about the dangers they face from demons before they blithely go and invite their help and Hawke wants to find out if ridding mages of demons is possible.

Gracie approaches her, "Well lass, you've shown you can teach an old witch new tricks. Your friend is a good teacher, even though she is an elf. I just wanted to thank you for what you and your friends have done here today."

Hawke looks at her and her heart falls, "You won a battle here today Gracie, but the war isn't over. There are more lessons to learn and they are not ones I am looking forward to teaching. If the rest of your neighbours are to be helped we need to go into the Fade."

Gracie grins widely at her, "Don't worry lass, I've been there a few times. Fucked those demons up well good. I'll come with you, maybe this time I will be the one to help you."

Hawke feels her mood lift a little. The old woman really is as tough as old boots and if she really has been in the Fade and killed demons before, then her help would be worth something.

"You didn't seem to be affected by Morla's speech, how is it that she could not persuade you?"

Gracie shrugs, "Don't know the answer to that one. I just know that them demons have never shifted my own mind from where I wanted it to go. If you go into the Fade I'll be at your back, those sneaky bastarding demons won't stand a chance." The woman looks around at the now not so beautiful cave and the blood and flesh spatters on her clothes. "My third boy owns that tavern down in the town. Why don't we go there and get cleaned up. I think these idiots have earned the right to show their faces in public again, besides I need a drink."

Gracie had continued to have a positive effect on Hawke's mood when they reached the town. She was not quite so sure she had the same effect on anyone else. She had screeched and swore at her son in the tavern, insisting that he provided their baths, food and drinks free of charge. Called him a tight-fisted son of a bastard, which was the truth, as she knew who his father was. Her grandson Sol she had greeted with more warmth, but then told him he was a lazy shit and had him running around carrying out the many errands she wished him to do. The harbour master she informed them was her second son before hounding him to leave off asking them for the fees for the extra days they were going to be staying in port, still unhappy with him she hit him repeatedly about his head until he gave them back the fees they had already paid. Not once did her sons answer her back or try to stop her from hitting them and Hawke caught the wry grins and fond looks they cast towards her as soon as she turned her back on them.

Clean, fed and with drinks in their hands the Seere mages sat in a circle in the tavern. Hawke was surprised when it was Marta who took on the mantle of chair to their meeting, but the quiet soft-spoken woman had a calming effect on the excited talk of the group and brought them to order.

"Let us drink first to Morla, our lost one. May the Gods look on her tenderly on her journey across the oceans to the Great After."

As one, they drink and bow their heads in silence as they pay their respects to the mage they killed.

"Although Morla lost control of her demon her prediction remains true. We thought the sacrifice to be made was this mage, but 'one of our own' meant Morla instead. This mage is the saviour of Morla's foretelling. Not Morla. This mage has shown us a new path. A path we can follow where no more will the Templars harry and hound us to our incarceration."

Hawke feels perturbed at being called a saviour, but is reassured that there is no sign of worship from the group. They appear to accept it as just a fancy word used to make Morla's foretelling sound grander. It is as Marta continues that a chill runs down Hawke's spine.

"Magra's son has returned and has news. The mages of Dairsmuid have fallen." The mages in the group just nod, they trusted Morla's words and have been expecting this news. The Templars are coming for them and they will have to fight, the only question remaining is how long before they reach Seere.

"So we are agreed, we go to Tevinter?"

All the mages raise their drinks and nod assent.

"What?" Hawke stands up.

"Sit back down lass, don't get you knickers in a twist," Gracie waves at her to sit, "We're not coming with you on your ships, we're going by land."

Hawke stays on her feet, "Why are you going at all? You can stay here, you know how to fight off the Templars, and you'll be able to live as you have been again!"

"You helped us, so we will help you. Trix will travel with you; she will find us when you get there."

"How did this happen? For years you all have barely spoken to each other, lived completely separate lives from each other and the rest of the world. After one day! Just one day you all sit around here as if you have never had a day apart, never argued, reach total agreement in seconds about something that is so...radical to everything you have ever been. I would call it madness except there are too many of you to all be having the same delusion!"

Marta looks at her calmly and explains patiently, "If we are not here then there is no one for the Templars to take away. If we are not here, then we do not have to kill young men and women who are just misguided. If we are not here, we do not risk losing more of our own. We need to get our lost children back or at least do our part to stop other children being lost. We have hidden in the hills for too long, we have hidden our magic away, we can no longer do either of these things. You have shown us a new path; this is how we have chosen to follow it."

"But you could all die!"

"If we stay we could die, not one of us will go willingly to Dairsmuid."

Gracie stands up and comes to her to take her hands in hers, "Child, we only go to Tevinter for you to use if you have need of us, nothing more. Let us do this."

"Why does she never talk like that to us Pa?"

Gracie whips her head round to her grandson, "Because you are a couple of ingrates who have never put yourself on the line for anybody! Get more drinks, we have a nasty job to do before we leave and I'd prefer to be drunk when I do it!"

Hawke looks into Gracie's wizened old face, "Are you all sure about this?"

"Not one of us has any doubts. This sharing of magic has effects you didn't expect lass, doesn't it? Now go and get that tranquilised, freak of a mage you've got with you and let's go kick some arse in the Fade."

All Hawke's fears and dread about going into the Fade prove groundless. The first mage wanting her demon out of her was Davida. She had been tempted by the offer to develop her ability to grow crops, faster and larger on the stony ground outside the shack she inhabited. The deal had turned sour for her when everything she grew had no taste. She had stopped growing anything and her demon had merely turned on her, constantly berating her for never going near other people. She had followed Trix in the hope that she would be killed, no longer wishing to live with the demon inside her. When Varania had sent her back she had tried to kill herself, but the demon had stopped her and berated her some more. The woman was desperate. She did not care if they succeeded in getting the demon out of her, only asked that they kill her if they did not.

Harral instructed the mages on the procedure for sending them into the Fade, explaining how it was different from her time to help Feynriel. There was enough lyrium that Hawke could take as many mages into the Fade with her as she wished, but Harral warned that the more she took in, the bigger the risk that one of them could be harmed and the fewer there were to carry out the ritual and hold them in the Fade. Hawke took Gracie, Varania and Marta in with her. The demon laughed when it saw them, not even bothering to disguise itself. Gracie did not wait for it to start, with its tricks and tempting offers. She pulled a catapult out from under her skirts, causing the demon to laugh even more uproariously, and fired a stone straight through the centre of its head. The laughter stopping abruptly as it died instantly. As it shrivelled and faded into dust, they were pulled back, Gracie's cackles ringing loud in their ears.

"A catapult?" Hawke asks Gracie when they come round in the tavern.

"Catches 'em off guard. They expect blades, big weapons, blasts of magic. A little thing like this they don't see coming, packs a big punch if it's done right. I've brought down a bear with this thing. Means I don't have to get too close to the stinking monsters either." She gives another cackle before demanding more alcohol from her son.

Welman is a middle-aged man who has lived with his demon for years. Invited in when he was young to boost his persuasion and bed any woman or man he wished. All was well until the demon started draining the life force from his partners and one of them died. Welman had isolated himself, afraid to speak to anyone, lest the demon feed on them also. Like Davida, his demon would not let him die until he had found another to take his place. He had followed Trix feeling he had no other choice but to let the demon take her, but when Trix had told him of what was happening, he had allowed himself to hope for another way out. He had gagged himself before returning with her finding the willpower in the last of his own reserves to prevent the demon from using his voice.

Hawke had watched as Gracie spoke with him when he removed the gag and confirmed the old woman's ability to block persuasive magic. She used it without thinking, in the same way she breathed. So tight was it woven that Hawke at first thought it might not be understood, but as Gracie talked with the man, Hawke was able to pick it apart. If she could put it, back together and use it, herself she might never have to fear demons again.

Gracie had warned them the demon was close to coming out in Derval, so enraged was it with him and suggested they deal with it quickly. Hawke took Trix instead of Marta this time, hoping she had inherited something of her grandmother's abilities. The demon had taken the form of Sol, mingling itself in with the images of other townsfolk, knowing of Gracie's ability to block, it had thought to deceive instead, but Trix saw through the disguise, sensing it's magic. The rage of the demon when it found its attempt at disguise discovered so quickly almost overpowered them. The simple catapult was not going to be enough this time. Hawke acted without thinking, drawing in the mana of the others to blast ice at it repeatedly, until the fires burned out and it froze and shattered with the final blast.

Hawke wakes to sense Marta's mana flowing in her, checking if she needed healing and finding nothing, but she leaves some of her own to replenish what was lost in the Fade.

"Are Davida and Welman all right?"

Marta's rheumy blue eyes twinkle back at her, "Better than I thought possible my dear. It will take time for them to recover fully, the demons were with them a long time, but they are with friends now. We will help them on their journey. You have done us a great service."

Hawke looks round to see that Gracie, Varania and Trix have not woken yet. "Don't worry about them, they will be fine. You had to drain a lot of their mana for Welman's demon, they just need to rest." Marta looks to the door of the tavern bedroom, "There is however someone I think who still needs your help. A terrible case of anxiety about you, I had to kick him out. Please talk with him before he uses that blade to take my head off. I think I should like to keep it."

"Fenris." Hawke smiles.

"Sol has readied the room next door for you; I thought you might be too wobbly on your feet to make it back to your ship. Now go and put that elf out of his misery."

Hawke opens the door to have Fenris grab her and lift her off her feet to carry her into the next room. She laughs as he kicks the door closed with his foot and lays her down on the bed. Fixing a chair under the door knob she can her him muttering that enough is enough, he will kidnap his own wife if that's what it takes to get her to himself for a while.

He places his blade up against the wall beside the door and walks to the bottom of the bed to crawl up it over her until they come face to face.

"So you would have me be a father now."

Her hand comes up to gently push back the shock of white hair, to better see into those green eyes that make her melt inside.

"Don't you want to be one?"

He brings his hand to her face; his fingers trail the line of her jaw and then her lips. He did not think he could love her any more, yet more of it fills him, right to his core.

"Until Damian told me, I did not know that I did. I do not know if I will be a good father, but I will do my best to be one."

"I couldn't ask any more of you than that."

"You can and you will Hawke, I know this and will give it gladly."

His kiss is filled with all the love he feels inside. The years of hate and self-loathing fade into memory. Here is the woman who loves him, knowing all his flaws and faults, yet loves him still. Whatever the future might hold, at this moment he feels content and happiness he has never known in his life. The memory of right now will never be lost.

He sits up and straddles her hips, his knees sinking into the soft bedding and mattress. Looking down on his beautiful wife, he can see no sign of the life she holds inside her. There has to be something, Isabella had teased him in the cave, asked him how he could be so blind. Damian had shook his head at him, after apologising for being the one to point out what he should have known, asked him how someone who spent so much time wrapped round her body had not noticed the changes. He readily admitted to himself that how women's bodies worked was a mystery to him. What need had he had to know about their cycles or how babies grew inside them? He knew which parts to send his sword slicing to stop them killing him. He knew hearts, he knew hearts better than most people knew their own bodies, knew well that feeling of holding it in his hand, feeling their life blood pumping through it and choosing to take it from them. Had felt the chambers pumping, knew how their movement was what gave voice to a heartbeat, knew the valves that opened and closed to send blood from one to the other and knew that he only had to hold a finger over any one of them to stop the flow of life. Pulling hearts out of chests was the showing off that Danarius had looked for from him to demonstrate his ability; he did not need to go that far to end someone's journey in this world. What happened when a journey began, he had never learned.

He reaches down to untie the laces of her leather bodice, pulling the ties loose so he can pull it over her head and reveal the smooth skin underneath. He hears Hawke's muffled laughs as his fingers brush her skin, tickling her as she wriggles to help him in taking the clothing off. He studies her breasts and can see they are fuller than they were, riper and rounder, the aureoles of her nipples look larger and the pale pink of their colour has shifted to a deeper rose. His fingers reach out and trace their circle feeling them harden and stiffen with something more than just her building desire and obvious pleasure in his touch. His hand cups round her breast, his thumb continuing to rub its pinnacle. He knows that he has been aware of the change in its size, but had not taken than awareness and thought more on it to make the connection that Hawke's body was preparing for what was to come, the change too subtle and his knowledge too poor. He bends to take her nipple in his mouth, his tongue exploring and gently sucking, but there is no change to the sweet taste of her. He lingers for a while, Hawke's soft moans and sighs fuelling his own pleasure.

Her pelvis rises as she arches her back, urging him on. His mouth travels down her torso cascading kisses and flicks of his tongue. His fingers pull at the lace on her trousers, pulling the cloth back to reveal her stomach. His head lifts to look more closely, but there is no telltale swelling to be seen, but as his hand gently presses, he can feel the firmness of a mound that was not there before, putting his ear on the spot, he tries to hear what is in there, but there is nothing to be heard. Hawke's fingers stroke the back of his neck as his hand moves over her stomach once more. There is a moment when he is tempted to phase his hand and reach in to touch and feel the new life he has made, but fear of what harm that might do makes it pass. Instead, he reaches under her trousers, his fingers searching for and finding the small nub at the core of her pleasure centre, her breathing quickens and little gasps escape her. He brings her to the height of her climax, exalting in the pleasure it gives him to make her feel like this, reassured as she cries out that in this nothing has changed.

Hawke's hands are on his back, pulling at his upper clothes, laughing at her; he unties laces, loosens buckles and in one fluid movement pulls them off to throw them on the floor. He moves off the bed to stand at the bottom, taking off his own trousers and then pulling at the feet of Hawke's, yanking them off with her underclothes. Now he can see her full magnificent unadorned length. He stares intently, what else has he missed? Her hips have filled out a little and serve to accentuate the curve to her waist. This he should have noticed, the contours of her frame as she moved has always fascinated him, this slight shift in line, change in the curve he should have seen, no less fascinating to him and no less attractive, still beautiful to his eyes, why had he not seen this?

Hawke reaches out her arm, catching his hand to pull him forward and lie with her once more. Her eyes sparkling with the aftermath of his touch and her need of him. Smiling, he climbs back on the bed, but he is not finished with his examination just yet. He turns her on her front and places his hands just below her neck, pressing as they sweep over her shoulder blades, pressing with his fingers and kneading his knuckles over the spots of tension still lingering. His hands spread out, his thumbs moving to either side of the bones of her spinal cord and move down to the small of her back where he finds another knot of tense muscle. As he rubs, he feels the change. He knows bones, knows the trouble they cause when his sword sticks in one, and knows how hard he needs to strike to slice through one. The change is ever so slight, but they have softened, softened so they can shift, her spine will move to adjust as the child grows. Pleased with himself that he has found something that no one else has told him about, he leans down to kiss that part of her back, one of the many places on her body he will return to, watching and waiting to see how much more it changes as time passes.

The allure of her buttocks pulls his thoughts from her back, to the multitude of memories of the days in Kirkwall. Travelling at her back he had watched them shift back and forth as they travelled, mesmerised at the rhythm. For years, he had watched, imagining what they were like without covering, then years trying to forget. Here he was now, the only one to see them in their perfect nakedness. All day he had watched them, saw how the light movement and rhythm had altered, held close to himself the warm thought that at some point he would see them just like this.

He lowers his body onto her back his full length matching hers, his manhood slipping into the warm cleft between her thighs, indulging himself in pleasure as she brings her legs together to squeeze him, a delightful parody of the opening at the top of them. He can already feel the moistness of her desire that has seeped out, readying the way for him to fill. He kisses and nuzzles the back of her neck until she turns herself round onto her back once more and he growls his unhappiness in her ear as his length slips back out of that most comfortable sheath of her thighs. Hawke laughs quietly in his ear, her hands reach down, her touch electric sending even more blood to harden him, and guides him into the other place, that most wonderful of her body's deep secret places. Her warmth engulfs him, her legs wrap round him pulling him deeper inside her, closer to where their child lies. The rhythm builds and he loses himself to desire and passion. Release when it comes, drains away all the worry and fear he has held tight in himself since Hawke left the ship with Isabella.

The rapping at the door rouses Hawke from her sleep. Fenris, as usual has woken before her, and is washing in the corner of the room, his muscular chest bare and his tattoos reflecting the light of the sun streaming in through the window. Blue skies are a rare thing for Seere indeed; Hawke hopes it is a good omen. Fenris turns his dripping head to cock an eyebrow at her. The chair is still in place, she can stay captive for longer if she wishes, they can pretend they are still asleep and leave the door rapper to give up and leave. Tempting though the thought is, she nods to Fenris to answer the call.

Gracie marches into the room as soon as she hears the chair has moved. She is about to speak when she notices Fenris and her mouth closes again. Failing to notice the scowl on his face, she walks straight to him and touches his tattoos, only stopping when they start to glow.

"Hell's teeth elf, they must have been painful to get. Why would you do that to yourself? Fuck me, I know we like our tats in Rivain, but these...you must be a very troubled man to have got these done. Hawke, are you sure he's fit to be the daddy to that kid you're having?" she starts wagging her finger at Fenris, "Whatever shit you have in your head boy, you get rid of it right now and don't look at me like that! You had better be good with that fancy sword of yours, that lovely girl there is going to need you to use it properly!"

"Shut up old woman before I show you just how good I am with it!"

Gracie's toothless smile breaks out and she starts cackling loudly. "Kill a sweet old lady would you? Hawke, he's better than I thought, even if he is an elf!" she pats him on the arm, "Takes guts to answer me back. I like you." She does not see him roll his eyes and put his hands in the air, turning immediately to speak with Hawke, paying no attention to her still being naked and in bed.

"We're off lass. We'll keep practising like your elf friend told us to. Look after Trix, she's a good granddaughter, she'll find us for you when we get to Minrathous. Those slavers won't stand a chance!"

Hawke wraps the bed sheet around her and goes to stand in front of Gracie. This little firecracker of an old woman is rude, foul mouthed, cantankerous and far too free with her opinions, but in the short time she has known her, Hawke has grown fond of her.

"Be careful Gracie. I do not want to get to Minrathous and find you are not there for me. Thank you...for everything."

"You be careful too lass. I have a hankering to see which one of you that babe ends up taking after."

In the sunshine Seere does not look quite as sad as it did when they arrived. As the four ships pull out of port, Hawke thinks that it should look even sadder. The children are gone and now their mages have left as well, but if anything, it looks hopeful. Isabella comes to stand beside her once the ship is safely beyond the port entrance and together they watch as Seere recedes into the distance.

"I think I have to say that that place is not as bad as I thought after all." Says Isabella.

"Oh, you didn't Isabella! Tell me you didn't."

Isabella grins at Hawke and sways her hips, "It's all right Hawke, I didn't fuck Damian, I made love with him, all night and with talking too. You would have been proud of me."

"You told him?"

"Yes I did. On a moonlit night, on board his ship, stars twinkling up above I said 'I love you'. Romantic drivel the lot of it but..." Isabella looks down at her hands twiddling her fingers, "Hawke, this whole thing scares the fucking crap out of me. The sex is great, but the rest of the stuff? I don't know what I'm doing."

"None of us do Isabella."

"But you and Fenris...you seem to have got it pretty well together."

Hawke laughs at her, "Sure, a baby on the way and heading straight into who knows what in Tevinter. Look, all I know is that when I have those moments when the shit stops getting fired at me, he's the one I want to be there. The fact that he is usually there at when the shit is being fired at me is beside the point. Do not over think it Isabella. Damian's your safe port in a storm, just make the most of those times."

"It's really that simple?"

"Maker's breathe no! The whole thing is really hard and screwed up at times; I've just found that if I think about it too much I get lost!"

"Damn it Hawke, not thinking too much is what I've been doing for years, what kind of advice is that to give an old friend?"

"It's not advice; I suppose I'm just saying I'm glad my old friend has found some happiness and that she should enjoy it while she can."

Isabella slaps Hawke on the back, "Now that's advice I like! Come on, we've got work to do."


	11. Chapter 11

After Kirkwall – 11

"Just show us what you can do."

Hawke, Varania and Trix sit on barrels all facing Alano. Harral stood behind Hawke watching the elven boy, his face blank, but still Alano squirmed under that gaze. Harral had said that in the Circle, the first thing they did with children brought to them was determine what they could do with their magic and how much mana they were able to hold. Hawke and Varania agreed that it was probably a good place to start, not everything the Circle did had to be bad. Although Trix had demonstrated she had ability, she was young and untrained. She had squealed in delight when Hawke had suggested she join them in trying to assess the boy, pleased at being included in the small band of magic users.

Alano sits and looks up at the faces around him. He had enjoyed scaring Fenris when he had shown him the spark from his finger, that had been so funny, but now, with Hawke in front of him, his confidence had left him. He had seen what she had done during the storm, how could his little spark match up to that? Now he was feeling embarrassed and wishing he had never shown Fenris the spark or asked if Hawke could show him how to do magic. They had all been trying to get him to do it since they had sat down, but the more they asked, the more scared he was becoming that he couldn't do it and how much more stupid would he look if he tried to make the spark come and nothing happened at all?

Hawke can see the boy is feeling intimidated with the four of them around him, "Does this happen often when you are assessing new mages?" she asks Harral.

"I do not know, "the man answers blandly, "I was not present when new mages were assessed. It could be that Fenris was mistaken and the child has no magic skill."

Hawke knows Fenris was not mistaken, he knows magic when he sees it, he was better at identifying magic than any Templar, the lyrium scorched onto his skin saw to that. Looking back at Alano, she sees him scowl, the boy is obviously angry with Harral for suggesting he has no magic. If she could fire that anger up a little bit more...

"How could Fenris have seen a spark if Alano wasn't doing any magic?"

"There was an account of a mage who could create sparks by rubbing certain materials together, no magic was required, and perhaps the boy has managed to do this."

"Well Alano," Hawke tells him with sympathy in her tone, "sounds like you have just picked up a trick and can't do magic at all." She tells him and stands up from the barrel turning her back on him, a small smile turning up the corner of her mouth as she started to walk away, waiting for it to happen.

"I can do it!" he shouts at her back, "Look!" she turns back to see the boy frowning hard and focusing all his attention on his pointed finger. After a few moments of intense concentration a tiny spark leaps out from its tip. He looks up at them, his face filled with defiance as if to say 'I told you so'. Trix leaps up clapping her hands, Varania gives a sigh of relief and Harral turns to Hawke, "This confirms the boy can do magic. It was not a trick." For Hawke, Harral's confirmation had not been necessary, after Fenris had told her what Alano had done, she had found him and sent out her magic sense and felt the small pool of mana within him. Today was to see for herself what he could do with it and now she knew.

She looks at Alano, keeping a very serious look on her face, "You know what this means don't you?" The boy looks back at her, "You believe me, it is magic isn't it? Are you going to send me away?"

"Yes, you have the ability, but I don't think we need to send you away. There is something else, any idea what that might be?" She watches Alano struggle to think of anything else meaningful, his fear that he might leave the ship gone with Hawke's reassurance, but doubts that something else worse might happen shows in the deep frown that puckers his forehead. She knows she has to tell him before his distress becomes palpable, "It means," she says poking him in the chest and laughing, "that it is now your job to light the ship lanterns at night and you are only allowed to do it with magic." The boys eyes light up, "Really?"

"Mistress Hawke," Harral interjects, "I should point out that in the Circle young mages are not allowed to use their magic until they can demonstrate control and have read all the first grade manuals. Any magic they do is under strict supervision. Alano is still learning how to read and we have no first grade manuals available on the ship."

Hawke sighs, Harral's knowledge is invaluable to them, as is his skill at enchanting, but there are times when his lack of emotion and blunt statements of rules that she seems to break on a daily basis make her feel like a mischievous child again. "Master Harral. May I point out that this is not the Circle? He is not sending out his spark without his awareness, he is already demonstrating control. Alano needs to use his magic in order to develop it further. Lighting the ship's lanterns will do this, it will help develop his natural ability and help him to build up his mana. At this time, the task will exhaust him. We will...acquire manuals when we can."

"Does that mean I still get to light the lanterns?" Alano asks hopefully.

"Yes it does, but you must still continue with your reading lessons. If you want to be a good mage, you'll have to read a lot." The boy nods his head vigorously.

"What about me?" Trix looks at Hawke, "I want to do something as well."

Hawke turns to Varania, "What do you think?"

"Trix learns quickly, but she has little confidence in what she can do and she needs to build up her mana reserves." This is what could have been said of Varania herself when Hawke had first met her, yet now her own confidence shines through, her quiet self-control and patience will make her a far better tutor than Hawke will ever be.

"All right, your natural ability lies in knowing where other mages are," she tells Trix, "use it as much as you can, see if you can increase the distance it works over, that should build up your mana. Why don't you go round with Alano when he lights the lanterns and see if you can learn how to make sparks from him."

Trix looks down at the young elf, "Hey kid, you're a teacher too now!"

Any further discussion they might have wanted to have is cut short as Isabella hauls Charade by the hair up on deck, Isabella cursing Charade for the stupid cow she is and Charade screaming out her pain and struggling to keep her balance. All crew on deck stop to look at the furore. Some start laughing, others just shake their heads. Just as Hawke is about to ask what is going on, she gets her answer as Sol comes running up the stairs after them.

"Look at what this silly cow has done!" Isabella throws Charade towards Sol who manages to catch her before she clatters onto the deck. "A fucking stowaway on MY ship!"

"Cousin! You finally managed to get away!" Isabella turns to Trix, her face like thunder. Trix quickly loses the grin, which came on seeing Sol and backs away from the fury evident in Isabella's stance.

"No one! No one gets to pick my crew for me!" Isabella screams, "This bugger isn't even fit to clean my boots! I should throw you both over the side and leave you to swim back to Seere! Give me a good reason why I shouldn't."

Charade holds her head, her screams have stopped but she is sobbing loudly. Sol stands up behind her, his own face starting to twist in anger, "She was only trying to help me! You should not be hurting her," he moves towards Isabella, but before his fist can engage with his intended target of Isabella's jaw, she has moved to his back with her dagger at his throat.

"You've been stupid enough boy; make one more move like that and you'll be too dead to make any more mistakes." Sol turns pale and does not fight it when Isabella throws him back towards Charade. Isabella strides over to Hawke, "What do I do Hawke? We cannot go back; the Templars might have arrived in Seere. I know I gave the go ahead for her to join us, but she is your cousin and we do not have the time to train him, he is no use as a sailor. All he's ever done is serve drinks, not a talent we can use here."

Hawke looks at her cousin, still sobbing as Sol sits on the deck beside her his head in his hands. She feels she should have seen something like this coming. She had seen the look on Sol's face when they had entered the tavern, heard his father say he was concerned about him running away. She just had not seen how much Charade wanted to bed the boy. She supposed he was quite handsome, but did Charade really like him so much that she wanted to keep him? She didn't think Sol had it in him to bargain with Charade to do this, what had her cousin been thinking? She should have stopped Charade's silly attempts to emulate Isabella. She feels anger and disappointment build up. What were they to do with them?

"What do you want to do Isabella? This is your ship, whatever you decide I'll support it."

Isabella paces the deck, her hands on her hips, her boots clicking on the wood, the rest of the crew on tenterhooks, waiting on her judgement on the two sitting on the deck, neither one of them lifting their heads.

"I've had enough of someone trying to be me and failing miserably at it, she goes to Damian's ship. The boy stays here; he can take over Alano's duties." She marches over to Charade and Sol, bending over them, her tone grim. "Cavall wanted bodies to feed on, you two shape up otherwise he gets you both." She leaves them in no doubt that she means what she says.

Flags are raised and Damian's ship draws near to run alongside and the ropes are thrown between them to set up the swing. Hawke is surprised when she sees Damian coming towards them. She would have laughed to see the big man on the tiny swing, if the reason for his arrival was not her wayward cousin. Damian's face reflects the firmness of Isabella's. He knows this is no social call. Isabella quickly explains what has happened and he nods his agreement to her decision,

"She's learnt her sailor skills well Damian, she's good on the rigging and she's good with her bow and her daggers. I just can't have her here while she's behaving like this anymore. See if you can knock some sense into her. She's got potential, but if she carries on like this, she'll never realise it."

"I'll send over one of my boys to replace her. What about the lad? I could take him back; there are no mages on my ship."

"We can't afford the time. The boys here will knock him into shape; if they don't then maybe I will feed him to Cavall. I'll keep him for now. If nothing else, it'll get rid of the fantasies he had in his head about what life is like outside of Seere."

Damian's grin returns as he looks to Hawke, "Has she told you yet?"

"No I haven't told her yet, I was waiting on Duke finishing his whittling." Isabella says still glaring at Charade, not quite ready to let go of her anger yet.

"Told me what?"

Damian nudges Isabella, "Go on, tell her, it might take some of the sour taste from your mouth."

"Getting that silly cow off my ship is the only thing that will take that away!" Damian laughs and turns to direct Charade into the swing. Charade goes quietly onto it, not once raising her head or looking at anyone on the ship while Duke and Josson pull at the ropes and Charade leaves. Isabella shouts at Dalan and Garp to give Sol work, there are to be no slackers on this ship. The boy looks up at the two men who stroke their blades menacingly as they look down, "You can start with the bilge water boy."

It is not until Charade reaches the other ship that Isabella looks to Damian and her face softens, "Thank you."

Damian gives her his bear hug and kisses her on the forehead, "Until Kont-Arr then."

"Until Kont-Arr." Isabella whispers.

The swing comes back and he lifts himself on, shouting back as he moves across the water, "Mine is 'Song of the Siren'!"

Hawke turns to Isabella, "You've got a name for the ship!"

"Sure have, Duke's almost got the name plate ready. I was going to break open a couple of beer barrels and have a bit of a shindig when we put it on, tell you all then. I suppose I could tell you now..." Isabella gives a small twist to her lips and raises an eyebrow.

"Damn it, you're going to make me wait aren't you?" Isabella keeps her arms crossed and swings from side to side, looking to the sky, pretending that she is actually thinking about whether to tell Hawke or not. She had wanted to surprise everyone with it, but Damian mentioning it had fired up her excitement and it could be contained no longer.

"'Song of the Spellweaver' it's in honour of you Hawke. You got us through that storm, almost at the cost of your own life, and I suppose it's in honour of Cavall as well for bringing you back. Strange, sexy, green thingy that he is. Damian chose his, said it was the closest he could get to having the original 'Siren's Call' back. What do you think?"

"I think you and Damian have gone soft in the head! You have given your ships matching names. What's Argo's called, 'Song of the short grinning man'?"

Isabella almost chokes, "No, but maybe it should be. He was a bit put out that I was the one who got to recognise you in the name, you know how fond he is of you."

"Maybe, but he loves you. He must be put out at Damian as well. We all know who the Siren is."

"Poor sod, he was just too slow in thinking what he wanted to call his ship. He plumped for 'Song of the Sea' in the end, said that she was his mistress and he loved her most."

"What about Barzal?"

"Oh he loved the song thing! Said that Dwarves have all the best songs, but he hasn't heard Cavall's song yet. 'Song of Return' he chose, hoped it would help him find his sisters one day."

"If you acquire any more ships to your fleet, will they be songs as well?"

"Let's wait and see if any more ships come our way. We've been lucky to get these ones."

The swing returns with the replacement for Charade, Hawke decides she will wait before introducing herself. She wants some time to get used to Charade's sudden departure and the feeling that she is the one who screwed up and does not deserve the recognition given her by Isabella.

* * *

><p>His sister had driven Fenris half-mad. It was not an issue at first; she wanted him to make small squares and circles of metal. He had used the metal from a pile of old swords and daggers he had found in the hull, heated and battered them flat before making the shapes she had asked for. However, when he showed what he had made to her, she had frowned, turned them over a few times in her hand and then handed them back, "The squares need to be smaller and thinner, and the circles just need to be thinner." He had been slightly annoyed at her cold criticism of his work, had asked her if she could tell them what they were for and she had just snapped at him saying they were for their new clothes. This he had figured out for himself, why else would Varania be asking him to make these? He had wanted to know what particular function they had for the new clothes. She had marched off before he could ask for more detail and so he was left to try again and make the adjustments she asked for.<p>

When he found her to show her the new shapes, she had smiled, happier at least that the squares were the right size, but she wanted them thinner. The circles though, could he make them in a variety of sizes? She had marched off again, leaving him still none the wiser as to what she wanted them for. He made new templates of circles in different sizes to cut out the shapes on the thin sheets of metal he was now managing to create from the old swords. At last she had been happy with the circles, picked out three sizes, and asked him to make more of them, lots more of them, and could he sharpen their edges. As for the squares, she would be needing lots more of them as well.

He had called in Harral to help, leaving him diligently working the discs on the grindstone while he had continued to hammer out squares and circles. It was when Varania had passed by for the third time; to peer in the buckets he was throwing the shapes into and says quietly that she still needed more, particularly the squares that his patience finally snapped.

"How many more of these blasted things do you need?" She had simply ignored his frayed state of mind and told him she would let him know, then calmly lifted the bucket of squares and replaced it with an empty one. He had continued, but grudgingly, his curses in Tevinter causing Harral to stop and request translations for the ones he had not heard before. He stopped when he ran out of old weapons to flatten, deciding that if his sister wanted more of these things then she could make them herself. He was tired and exhausted, his muscles sore and still frustrated that he did not know what it was all for. He had to tell Harral to stop when he saw the numerous cuts on his fingers he had gained from honing the circles and sent him to Hawke to get them healed. The circles that were still left to sharpen could be finished later.

Grabbing the bucket of squares he set off to find Varania, intending to dump them with her, then go and get some rest. He found her at the stern end of the ship, sitting cross-legged on the deck, surrounded by bits of leather and sewing with a speed he found surprising. He had dumped the bucket beside her, "That's as many as I can make right now. It had better be enough." She had looked up at him and grabbed his hand to pull him and sit him beside her, ignoring his protests that he needed to sleep.

"This is yours, look." She had two pieces of leather that she had sewn together in rows of three sided tiny pockets, pulling metal squares from the bucket she slotted them into the pockets and began stitching the fourth side to seal them inside.

"I can't make proper plate armour and neither can you yet, but this will serve a very close second to it." She had handed him her work and he felt the many solid, squares of metal inside, but the leather remained flexible, and it bent round his hand. "There are few weapons that will manage to find their way right through this. Once the leather has been boiled and Harral has enchanted them, I'm hoping there will be even less." He found his irritation with her leaving; it would be fine protection when it was finished. Hawke had found ways to improve his spirit hide back in Kirkwall, but Danarius had given that to him. This was different, made for him by his sister. The stitches were tiny and incredibly neat, Varania's needlecraft easily matching that he had seen on any of the expensive robes Danarius had worn. How had she done this working with leather instead of cloth? "Plate armour is not for me, but this...is perfect. How long before it is finished?"

Varania closes her eyes to think, "Not sure, I have quite a few others to finish as well, but I'm hoping they will be finished by the time we reach Kont-Arr, I'm hoping to find a boot maker there who can make what I have in mind."

"Boots? You know I hate boots."

"Yes, and Hawke hates helmets. Isabella will not wear anything that does not show off her chest. Hamahakis will not wear anything with any weight. Charade will not wear gauntlets. Damian will not wear anything with sleeves. Harral says there is no purpose to making anything for him. Orana will not let me near her to take her measurements. Barzal refuses to wear anything that is not dwarven made. On the other hand, Argo will wear anything and the rest of the crew are just amazed that someone would consider making them anything at all. I've only just measured up Trix today; fortunately she doesn't seem too fussy either."

"Are you sure you will be able to make all of them? What about your own outfit?"

"Brother," Varania had given him a withering look, "I worked a long time for a man who cut my pay if I was too slow. If I worked at this pace for him I would not have been paid at all. They will all get done, my own as well."

"What about the discs? They look more like a weapon, not something you sew into clothes."

"Well done, they are a weapon, you throw them. There was this one magister who hid them in the seams of his clothes."

Fenris had looked long at her, "Varania, did you ever see these weapons or see them used?"

"I was given one to use as a guide to sew the slots in the seams to put them, but I never saw them used. That's why I asked you to make lots of them; we'll need to start practising with them."

She had been right, she did know needlecraft, but she did not know weapons. He did and the discs would not work. He had turned from her and sighed and returned to get the smithing gear looked out again. He could rest later.

Hamahakis called them throwing stars. Harral said they were called shuriken. It did not really matter what they were called, in the right hands they could be deadly. Fenris was not surprised that a magister had used them. Small, easily hidden, with razor sharp blades they could be thrown from a distance and slice through their target, as long as the aim was good. Fenris had managed to make a template and used it to cut the shape in the discs he had made earlier. Isabella was not best pleased when she saw the coals burning again, but when Fenris had shown her the first star, her eyes had lit up. She had remembered being shown these once in her travels, but had never had the chance to try them. Taking the star he had made and sharpened, she had admired the simplicity of it, marvelling at the four flat blades that radiated from the centre. She had held it in her hand, feeling how light it was compared to her daggers and then thrown it at the rail. The disc had whizzed through the air before embedding itself in the wood, so much so, that it had been a struggle to get it back out again. "Oooh! Fenris make more of these and I will never call you a 'broody bastard' again!"

Hawke had woken with the strange sensation of not having Fenris beside her. Stranger still, because she had seen him working hard all day and had thought that he would not be long in following her to bed. Curious, she had gone out on deck and found him deep in conversation with Isabella. She had never seen the two of them talking together like that. They would talk and joke with each other, but it was always superficial. She knew Isabella liked Fenris, but was never sure that it was in a way that was something more that a desire to find out more about his man bits. Fenris only ever disliked Isabella when she had herself into another situation that required help to get out of. Watching them talking like this was interesting. So caught up in their conversation, it was not until Hawke stood beside them that they noticed her. Fenris handed her the Throwing Star, explaining what it was, Isabella had then grabbed it from her hand to throw it into the cabin door where it did make a very nice thunk sound.

Each of them had started talking. Isabella thought it was like having one dagger with four blades, but it was so light and so small, the fun she was going to have slicing up people with these! The emergent smith in Fenris was enthused by their design and how he could improve them. The little piece of metal was interesting, but she was too tired to drum up the same enthusiasm the pair of them had in it. She said goodnight and left them, Isabella saying that a serrated edge on the blade could make it even more deadly and Fenris scratching his head, wondering what type of edge would be best.

* * *

><p>Hawke eyed the target, a very sorry looking barrel it was now with all the splinters of wood sticking out from the hundreds of slots it had in it. One slat had come loose and fallen to the inside. She tried to imagine it as a demon, no spell she had ever cast at them had missed. She rubbed the side of the throwing star, feeling its cold, smooth metallic surface, careful not to reach the edge, her thumb had already been cut several times. She threw it, trying to flick it as Isabella had shown her, but she knew that as soon as it left her hand, it was not going to go where she wanted it to go. It pinged off the iron ring of the barrel and flew off into the sea. The roar of laughter from the rest of the crew rang in her ears as Isabella came up behind her and slapped her on the back, "At least it hit the barrel this time, and you are getting better."<p>

This was so humiliating, even Alano was better than she was at this. She knew as soon as she turned, that Fenris was going to have that look on his face. The one that appeared every time she had sent a star into the water. Until they reached Kont-Arr he would not be able to make any more and she had just lost another to the depths.

They had all been trying the stars out. The surprise had been Orana, who had a natural ability for this and was already managing to hold three stars in her hand and flick them at the barrel in quick succession, all of them hitting the exact spot she intended. Thunk! Thunk! Thunk! The look she got from Hamahakis was so much better than the one Fenris was giving her. Isabella quickly had the hang of it, only having to adjust the dagger throwing skill she had honed over years to the change in weight and size of the stars. Hamahakis was the same. Trix and Varania were not quite as good, but after their first few throws they were consistently managing to hit the barrel.

Dalan and Garp had got bored waiting for their turn to throw at the barrel and started throwing them at each other, snatching the stars out of the air before any damage could be done to either of them or anyone else. Alano had ended up watching them instead, fascinated by the light flashing from the stars and how the twins never hurt each other, always seeming to know exactly where the stars were going to go. This was so much better than the puppet shows he had seen in Rialto. Duke had started taking bets on what part of the barrel each thrower could hit and coin was changing hands fast, but not when she was throwing.

Isabella guided her away from the bow, "Try again tonight, I'll come with you and see if we can sort you out."

"You expect me to get better at this when it's dark?"

Isabella laughs at her, "No, I expect you to get better without an audience."

She had been right of course. With only Josson on watch to see her ridiculous attempts at throwing, one of the fishing nets hung up at the back of the barrel to catch stars before they went flying over the rail and Isabella patiently directing her, Hawke finally began to get the stars to go where they were supposed to.

* * *

><p>"Hawke would you please stand still!"<p>

Staying still is not something she has ever been much good at. When she was young she spent hours running around playing tag with her friends and her siblings. When not playing, she had been working on their farm. When her talent showed up, her father had had a terrible time trying to get her to sit and read. He had threatened to tie her to the chair once in order to make her read her books, her mother _did_ tie her to a chair once in order to cut her hair. She suspected that the years of being on the run before her family settled in Lothering was what had done it and constantly being on edge waiting for Templars to show up and cart her away. Hawke doubts Varania would be able to tie her to the bucket she has insisted she stand on, but she can see that she is losing patience and trying hard to get the piece of leather she is working on to fit into place.

Varania puts a pin in her mouth, her hands adjusting the material and then pokes the pin in and out again to keep it where she wants it to be.

Maybe if they were talking Hawke could keep herself distracted enough that she can stop getting restless on top of the bucket,

"What is it you're doing?"

"Making sure that this will expand properly as you do."

Hawke can't help it, she looks down where Varania has put in the pin and sees what looks like a curtain of leather covering her stomach,

"You're making baby bump armour?"

Varania glares at her and she stands quickly up straight again.

"I suppose you could call it that." She continues putting in pins before she picks up a piece of chalk and starts drawing lines on the leather.

Varania's concentration on her task stops any further attempt at conversation. Hawke bites her lip, trying to think of anything that might help her keep still. If Isabella really wanted to tell her what talents Fenris had in bed, all she had to do was employ this form of torture, she would tell all in seconds.

"That's it, you can step down now."

"Thank the Maker!" Hawke jumps down to look properly at the outfit Varania is making for her. This is nothing like the robes mages usually wear or the fancy dresses she has seen the noble women are partial to. The leather leggings are tight, matching the outline of her legs with numerous pockets running down the sides. There is a large flap of leather behind the laces at her stomach, Hawke realises this will help conceal her modesty when she will be unable to pull the laces taut together. All around the waist there are concealed pockets. The top also hugs her figure, other than the curtain of leather at her front; it stays true to all the curves of her body. Unlike the leggings, the laces are at each side, running from under her armpit to her waist. The sleeves cover the full length of her arms to just below her wrists. The collar at her neck sticks up and Hawke feels the small metal squares inside the leather. The neckline scoops down and shows off her cleavage.

"I thought the idea of protective clothing was that most of me would be covered up." Hawke says, adjusting her frontage.

Varania looks at her earnestly, "There are some places that should not be covered completely. Isabella has the right idea. The distraction it causes can give you more time."

"It feels quite tight."

"It's leather; it will mould itself to you. For proper armour I would boil the leather, but it would limit your movement too much, I have put in the metal squares at your vulnerable points, it will not weigh too much. Once this is finished wear it as much as you can and it will soon feel like a second skin. The laces can be adjusted if you need to loosen it."

"What's this for?" Hawke puts her finger through the leather loop on the waist of the leggings.

"Your whip."

"My what?" Hawke looks at her shocked, "The only whips I've seen have been carried by slavers or the ladies who offered more interesting services in 'The Blooming Rose'." She does not want to mention the one she had seen Danarius use in Fenris' nightmare.

Varania keeps her straight face, "A whip is a very useful weapon. Isabella will show you once I've finished making them."

"I'll bet she will." Hawke mutters. She shudders, remembering all the cuts on Fenris, she is not sure if she could ever bring herself to use the whip to do that to another person.

"The padding is there for the poison pins as well as the pockets for the throwing stars..." Hawke does not miss Varania's blush as she mentions the stars. Varania rubs at her forehead, "I felt such an idiot, all those circles. I'm just glad my brother knew what I didn't."

"I'm not so sure I'm glad. I feel such an idiot that it took so long for me to get the hang of throwing the blasted things."

Varania pulls out another piece of leather, "I know you don't like wearing helmets or head gear, but I hope you'll like this better." She starts attaching the leather to the small buttons placed below the neckline and pulls it up over Hawke's head. The hood is loose, but there are laces to tie it on more firmly. "I hope you will use it Hawke, it will be enchanted and I would like you to protect your head."

Varania then hands her a pair of gloves. Once on, Varania points out the little pockets on the palm. She then reaches into her sewing bag and pulls out a small box. Inside are two small gemstones.

"Danarius called these magestones. He gave them to me after I agreed to help him capture my brother. I think they are rare, I have asked everywhere we have been about them, but no one seems to know anything. Giving them to me was supposed to be Danarius' way of demonstrating that he would keep his promise to train me as a magister. I believe now that he would have taken them back as soon as he had my brother back in his hands again. I should have realised that an elf would never have been allowed to become a magister. They store mana. Each day, you should direct some of your mana into the stone. They hold a lot of mana, lighter than bottles of potion and they take less time to use. They fit in those small pockets. Only by having them in your palm, can you retrieve what they have stored. If a time comes when your mana needs replenished, you can draw on what you have stored in the stones."

"Varania, I have never seen or heard of anything like them. If they are yours, you should keep them and use them." Hawke holds the box out to her,

"No sister. You are the one that will need these more than me. I cannot use them, each time I look at them; I am reminded of what I did to my brother. When we get to Tevinter I will enquire and see if there are more of these to be had, if I find more I will use them."

Hawke nods her assent, thanking Varania for the gift, and then she notices a leather toggle at the wrist of the glove. Varania stops her as she starts to touch it.

"Careful with that." She pulls on the toggle and a fine length of wire comes out behind it revealing the garrotte.

"A simple seamstress should not know all this stuff."

Varania just gives a small smile, "I told you I knew some tricks."

* * *

><p>Isabella stares out into the dark watching for the occasional twinkle that appears between the waves. Each time it appears she is reassured that Damian is close and wonders if he is watching for the light from the lantern on her ship. It will not be long until she sees him again; tomorrow will bring them to Kont-Arr.<p>

She had watched Trix and Alano going round lighting all the lanterns, the two of them giggling and squealing each time the spark was produced to light them. Having mages on board took a bit of getting used to. Getting used to elven women who sewed and integrated deadly devices into her clothes had been a bit of a challenge as well. Who would have thought the haughty elf knew so much about the underhand ways of defending yourself. She had handed her a very serviceable whip. The weight of the handle felt good and the braiding of the leather was neat and tight. Unlike the ones the slavers used, this one had a firm handle and a long length of leather tapering from it. It could be used to inflict pain, but there was so much more it could be used for. That was the best part and showing the rest of them what could be done with the whips today had been so much fun, although she doubted that Sol had found it so. Gracie had been right to call him a lazy shit, hard work was something he was not familiar with. Using him to demonstrate her skill with the whip was something she hoped would help him 'Crack on', Ha! Ha! She had waved at the crew to gain their attention while the boy was scrubbing the deck. She had started by cracking the whip at his backside, making him jump at the sudden sharp pain and the noise. Before he could turn and see where it had come from, she had let it out again, the end curling round his neck and had pulled him stumbling backwards towards her. The look of terror on his face when she had unwound it and quietly told him to run had been most satisfying; the laughter of the crew should have told him he was in no real danger. The boy had only managed to stand and take a few steps when the whip lashed out again, wrapping round his legs and he had fallen flat on the deck face first. The laughter of the crew at the boy's misfortune meant he had a long way to go before he would make many friends. He would get no sympathy from that quarter. A flick of her wrist and the thin line of leather was back at her feet. She had cracked it on the deck a few times as the boy had slowly picked himself up. She loved the sound whips made cutting through air. The twitching of the boy each time she did it, told her it was a sound he was quickly learning to hate. Once on his feet she had told him to stretch his arm out. He had looked at her with such fear she had wanted to laugh, but he did as she asked, albeit slowly and with his eyes squeezed shut. When the arm was fully out she had lashed out again and the thong wrapped itself round his forearm. Slowly she had pulled him towards her, "I'm still thinking about feeding you to the kelpie." She had whispered to him. She had thought he was going to faint on the spot, but to his credit the boy had rallied round enough to answer her back, "Much more of this and I'll be happy to be his dinner."

Hawke had been the only one to show concern, checking him over, surprised to find no damage to him other than a red mark around his neck. "If I wanted to hurt him, I would have used my blade." She had told her, "Whips are more use at keeping men just where you want them." She had just given her a strange look and nodded before taking her own new-made whip and trying it out.

Looking at Hawke now standing at the wheel with Fenris behind her, as he always is when it is their turn on watch, Isabella feels that old familiar sadness wash over her. Hawke cannot deny it now, the swelling at her belly is beginning to show, small though it is and only those who know her would notice, it is there. Isabella had told her she knew all the herbs to use if she had not wanted the natural consequences to sex, but it had been many years since she had used them herself. A few too many times of forgetting to take the herbs had told her that children were never going to be a natural consequence for her. Not that she really wanted children, but it still hurt not to have the choice. This ship is her child and she sends a silent prayer to the Gods of the Sea that this one will not be taken from her, "Oh, and don't take Damian's either." She says aloud, giving the far off twinkle a last look before going below.

* * *

><p>Hawke tugs at her collar, the rubbing against her neck is irritating and she can feel her skin begin to swell. Why can't there be an enchantment to stop new leather chaffing? The silk underclothes Varania had made stopped the irritation on the bulk of her skin, but those parts that weren't protected by it were beginning to annoy her. Hawke wonders if Varania has actually trained to be a torturer instead of tailor as she sits letting the dwarf measure her feet. New boots are bound to cause even more irritation.<p>

As soon as they had arrived at Kont-Arr, Varania had left the ship, on the hunt for a boot maker. She had insisted they all go to see him, even Isabella who claimed she did not need new boots, hers had served her well and they would continue to do so.

Kont-Arr was an interesting place. A real mix of all the races on Thedas, most of them followers of the Qun and mostly disinterested in the motley bunch that had arrived in port. As far as they were concerned, they were sailors, nothing more. The artisans and shopkeepers were good at their jobs, all their time spent focussed on whatever role they had. The products they traded were well made and practical with little or no adornment.

Isabella was keen to offload the shipments for this place and leave as quickly as possible. It did not matter that it cut short the amount of time she could spend with Damian. She had spotted Qunari whilst getting her boot measurements taken and convinced that they recognised her, wanted them away from this place. Damian, Argo and Barzal had argued with her that they needed to stay and get supplies, their next stop was Qarinus and unless she wanted to try her luck at getting supplies at one of the islands off Seheron, they would run out before getting there. Isabella balked at the thought of going anywhere near any more Qunari, but she had relented only when Damian pointed out that she could hide in his cabin and leave the rest of them to get on with the trading that needed to be done.

The dwarf finishes his measuring and Hawke looks up at Dalan and Garp, her escorts on her trading outings. Fenris had insisted that they go with her, while he searched out metal plate and the other materials he needed to make more throwing stars. The twins had turned out to be good company, although their need for regular stops at the harbour side taverns slowed their progress. The look on their faces tells her they are ready for another stop in at a tavern, getting your feet measured is thirsty work for them. Shaking her head she indicates they can lead the way.

The tavern they choose is busy and filled with sailors who give them a nod as they make their way to the bar. Merely recognising other travellers passing through. The twins buy their drinks, stand, and sup, leaving Hawke to look around and take in the atmosphere.

It is the mention of the name that makes her blot out everything else and focus on the conversation of the two men at the end of the bar.

"That Lucarius is a right bastard. I swear those last five we picked up were alive when I handed them over."

"They were alive; I kicked their butts into that cage. They jumped too quickly at that for them to be dead."

"Well he said they were dead and he wasn't paying the full rate. Tight fisted shit."

"What are you going to do about him?"

"Ah nothing! What can I do? The bastard would just zap me into dust. Fucking magisters, always wanting more slaves and not willing to pay for the poor shits.

"But we picked up another contract from him. Are we just gonna go and get more for him and let him screw us over again?"

"Not sure pal, I heard that Borgen and his lads got done in when they went to Rialto. That's where I was heading us for next, there's nothing round here for miles. Didn't think they cared that much what happened to their kids there. Not sure now about goin' down there if we're just going to get our throats cut."

"What about further south? The going used to be good in the Free Marches."

"That was when it was adults we was picking up. Kids wouldn't last the journey back."

"He still pays for deaduns."

"Wouldn't cover the cost of goin' down there. I told you, he's a tight fisted bastard."

"We could go back to Seere again."

"Naw, no good, Rob says we got 'em all there."

"Ha Ha, That were a good run."

"Certainly was. No elf kids there though, pay weren't so good."

"What about Arlathan then?"

"Dalish ain't been seen round there for years."

"If we're gonna do it, looks like we need to go inland again."

"Aye, but further in than Brynnlaw. Pain in the arse usin' carts."

"What about Ayesleigh? We could put in at this side and cart the kids over. Saves us sailin' all the way round."

"Hmm, just as far as we had to bring the carts after Brynnlaw, pain in the arse again, but I don't think anyone's hit there yet. All right then, we'll do Ayesleigh. But when we get that lot to Minrathous, I'm checkin' the kids with him. He's not diddlin' me again."

Hawke whispers to Dalan, "You stay here and follow those two when they leave. Find out what ship they are on."

"You sure Hawke? I don't want Fenris practising with his sword on me because of this."

"He might practise with his sword on you if you don't do this. Don't worry, Garp will get me back safe and sound, won't you Garp?"

Garp just blinks at her, but then gives a small nod.

Once back at the ship, Hawke finds Trix and discovers that 'Rob' was harbour master before Gracie's second son. Trix is distraught that a man she only vaguely remembers could have turned on the people of Seere like he did. Hawke is relieved. It explains how the slavers had managed to find their way in and out of Seere's port at night, as harbour master; the man would have known how to navigate it easily. She had been worried that a mage or a magister had been with them. Dalan returns to inform them that he found their ship and they plan to leave in the morning. It is too soon, they cannot follow them, too much of what they need to do in Kont-Arr will not be done for days. By the time they will be ready the slavers could have captured all the children they wish and be well on their way to Minrathous.

Hawke had thought to seek out Isabella, to see if she could think of a way that something could be done, but had found Damian instead.

"We are not pirates any more Hawke, I don't think we can do this before they reach Ayesleigh. The best we can do is get them afterwards."

"There must be something we can do, can't we force them to stay here? Make sure they don't leave until we are ready to follow them?"

Damian laughs at her, "Even if we could, we wouldn't be able to follow them quickly enough. Our ships hold too much cargo, theirs hold nothing, and we couldn't keep up."

"Why don't we just do what we did in Rialto and take over their ship when it gets dark?"

Damian shakes his head still laughing, "Hawke, in Rialto you had every whore on your side and the Crows were too busy ruffling each other's feathers to take any notice of what you were up to. Here there are no slaves on that ship for you to save. Kont-Arr will not take kindly to you upsetting their reputation as a safe harbour. You know what happened to Isabella when she had a bunch of Qun followers after her."

Hawke shudders at the thought, glad that it was Damian she had talked this through with and not Isabella. Her anxiety over Qunari finding her here was bad enough, if Isabella knew Hawke had even thought of bringing more Qunari wrath upon them she would kick her off the ship without any little helpful funding to get her started on her landlubber life.

"I can do it." Hawke turns at the voice behind her to see Charade standing staring at her feet.

"Do what?" Hawke asks her, exasperation in her tone, wondering what her cousin is talking about.

"I can stop them before they get to Ayesleigh." Charade lifts her head, her face grim, "I overheard you talking. I remember the children of Rialto; it cannot be allowed to happen again. Let me do this cousin. I need to make amends; I choose this to do it."

Both Damian and Hawke take a long look at Charade before responding to her offer. The trappings of her hero worship of Isabella have gone, but Hawke can see that she has not returned to the Charade who started this journey with them. The short time she has spent on Damian's ship has wrought a change in her, but it is difficult to pinpoint the nature of the change.

"What do you think you can do?" Hawke asks tentatively,

"I will get on board their ship before they leave and kill them before it touches land again."

"No!" Hawke turns her back on her cousin, dismissing her idea as ludicrous, but Charade gently pulls her back round to face her.

"There is no other way. They have to be stopped and I will do this. Let me."

"But this is suicide! I can't..."

Charade gives a small smile, "We have been dodging death all along on this journey. I have learnt a lot about how to stay alive from all of you. I know I can do this. I know I made a big mistake with Sol and I have learnt my lessons. I need to do this cousin; I want to be part of what you're doing."

Damian nods at Hawke, damn the man, this is family. Allowing Carver to come with her to the Deep Roads had nearly been his end, her mother had been murdered because she was not there, and her sister was dead because she was not fast enough. This time she would be knowingly putting her cousin in danger, putting her into a situation, which this time could definitely be avoided.

"Stop it Hawke!" Charade shouts at her, "I know what you're thinking and you can just get those thoughts out of your head. This is not your responsibility. I am not your responsibility! I am making the choice here. You want to stop these slavers and I am going to do it. Agreed?"

"I can't lose any more of my family; it's too big a risk. Besides, this is your plan? Get aboard somehow and just kill them?"

"You won't lose me, think of it more as getting me back and my plan is more subtle than you think. Zevran taught me more than a few bedroom tricks."

"Zevran? I didn't think he did subtlety."

"Only where it matters cousin."

Hawke closes her eyes thinking it is probably best if she does not know more of Charade's plan, "All right! Nevertheless, you are not doing it alone. Get Cavall, he can follow the ship, I want someone there you can call on for help if you need it."

* * *

><p>Charade stood at the rail of the empty ship, staring at the sails that were coming towards it. She had been lying to her cousin when she said her plan was subtle. It had been just as blunt as her cousin had said. She had thought to seduce one of the slavers, then quietly go around, and kill the rest of them while they slept. That's what Zevran had told her when relating his assassin tales; "Always start simple, easier to adapt when things go wrong." She had blithely forgotten his addendum to that advice, "Things always go wrong."<p>

How right he had been. Persuading the slaver she found on the dock to take her on board for passage to Minrathous had been easy. She realised now that it had been too easy. Her plan of seduction had never got started. Once on board he had flung her into one of the empty slaver cages below and the slaver's plan of taking her by force and then sharing her with his shipmates had been the one that had come to fruition and the dreams she had of being a lover assassin had disappeared with the degradation and abuse they had put her through. She did not want to dwell on that memory, it would haunt her enough for the rest of her life, but it had changed her, driven any thoughts of clever, sneaky assassinating out of her head and replaced them with a cold, clear need for the wholesale slaughter of the men who had hurt her.

They had lowered the anchor in a tiny bay and she heard them say they would go over land in the morning, time enough to have more fun with their captive. Her chance to repay them came soon after that. An arm got free from the slaver who held it down and she had grabbed the pin from her collar and stabbed him in his neck with it. The tiniest moment of confusion this caused amongst his fellows had been enough for her to reach and grab the dagger from the sheath at his hip. The months of training with knives in her quest to become Isabella had come together in a feast of slashing at throats, arms, bellies and faces. No delicate dance of flashing blades was this, just the calculated thrusts at the most vulnerable parts. All her anger she fed into the long steel point and it seemed for while its hunger for more could not be sated. She had systematically gone round the ship, dealing out death to all on board. Each slash matching the thrusts she had been forced to endure. Those out on deck she had kicked into the water, watching their lifeless bodies sink below. When the blade drank the lifeblood of the last slaver remaining, the fury inside her had subsided to be replaced by overwhelming nausea. The sound of her retching had accompanied his fall into the sea.

Cavall had snickered when her stomach had nothing more to give to the waves. How long had he been there? She felt ashamed and disgusted at herself. Guilt that it was her own stupidity that had got her into this situation began to fill her. Guilt at the killing spree she had gone on in her rage at what these slavers had done to her. This vengeance did not taste sweet. She had immediately thought that Cavall would share this disgust at her, but his eyes held none of it. He had bowed at her before turning to go below deck, carry up the bodies, and throw them into the water to join their shipmates.

She had looked down at the naked lower half of her body, blood splatters from her kills failing to disguise the bruises that were starting to appear around her thighs. The tears had come unbidden as well as the moans that escaped her as her body shuddered its pain. She could do nothing more than sit on the deck, her arms wrapped round her knees and let her grief flow through her.

She had no idea how long she sat on the deck before the wracking sobs began to subside and the thought entered her head that she should follow those men into the depths. Let Cavall feast on her body and leave no trace of her on this world, Hawke be damned, it would be a better place without this family member. She lifted her head, readying herself to rise and jump over the side, to see a light green face staring at her with huge emerald eyes.

"This is Lipiz." Cavall had told her, "She says she will help you."

Much smaller than Cavall, Lipiz was obviously another kelpie with all the same features that Cavall had, but slender and female. She held out her hand to help Charade get to her feet and indicated that she should undress and join her in her uncovered state. Cavall ran over the side of the ship to dive in the water, changing his shape as he fell. Lipiz held her hand as she jumped in to join him.

She had thought at first that the kelpies were going to help her end her life, but once in the water it became obvious that they had something else in mind. Lipiz had shape-shifted into her sleek lithe horse form and swam under Charade so she could ride on her back. Speeding over the surface she could feel the cold salt water wash all the blood and stains from her, seeming to cleanse her mind as well as her body. The tension in the muscles warned her of Lipiz' intention to dive and she held her breath as under the water Lipiz and Cavall danced around each other. Lipiz was careful not to stay under for too long and regularly came up to the surface to let her inhale another deep breath before diving down and continue the dance with Cavall. She could hear them singing to each other, the sound glorious and haunting, it was not long before more kelpie appeared, joining in the song and the dance. Although she could not understand the language they sang, she began to feel that they were singing of her, singing of her bravery and courage, singing of how she knew of their need to feed and her offering of the men to them. The sounds filled her to her core, healing her mind and chasing away the thoughts of ending her life. She remembered what the slavers had been doing, more than she had been hurt and damaged by them. They would do it no more; she had been the one to make sure of that.

The dance and the song had continued until the sun went down and the moon came up to tinge the waves and the manes of the kelpie with silver. Slowly the kelpie who had joined them began to leave and the song grew quieter until it was only the three of them once again. Lipiz led her to the side of the ship and watched her climb before leaving also. Cavall climbed up behind her and took her hand once they stood on the deck once more.

"I will go with them for a while, but I shall return. I would follow you for a time." The kiss he gave her was gentle and the sensation lingered on her lips long after he had returned to the water.

She had slept on deck under the moonlight, a deep healing sleep that she woke from when the morning sun shone in her eyes.

She had wandered the ship, revisiting the points where she had killed or been hurt. She found the discarded blood stained clothes she had worn on boarding this ship and burned them, finding clean breeches and a shirt in a chest alongside the bow and daggers they had had taken from her. The memories still came quickly, but she no longer felt the crippling grief when she remembered. She had cleaned the bloodstains and thrown manacles and chains overboard, cleansing the ship with the seawater that had cleansed her. It was two more days before the sails she had become familiar with appeared round the outcrop of coastline from the bay the ship sat in.

As Isabella's ship ran alongside it, gangplanks were put out and she came on board.

"Nicely done girl, another ship for me, I might forgive you after all."

Charade looked at her, the woman she had so admired and tried to emulate. The shine might have gone from the hero-worship she had had for her, but she had learnt to respect her. Therefore, she kept her voice calm,

"This is _my_ ship Captain. Fought for and hard won. I would have it be part of your fleet, but it is _my _ship. Make me Captain of it or don't, but you will not take it from me."

Isabella read well the look on the girl's face, could guess at what had happened here. She saw the change in everything about her, her stance was firm, the deference gone and her eyes...Isabella knew that look, had seen it in herself the odd time she had looked in a mirror. It seemed that now the girl had stopped trying to be her, she had become more like her. She gave the girl a slight nod in acknowledgement. Hawke came forward, not sure what had just happened between them, but concern for her cousin overriding her curiosity.

"I'm all right Hawke; just don't expect me to be volunteering for any more solo missions again."

"But what happened? How did you...?"

Charade shook her head, "You don't need to know cousin."

* * *

><p>"Are you sure about this Isabella? She's only been a sailor for a few months; does she even know how to be a Captain?"<p>

Isabella threw her head back and laughed, "Barzal said the same thing. He thinks I'm mad." Looking at her friend Isabella became more serious.

"She's claimed the ship as her own. Whatever happened there, it is her right."

"But a Captain?"

Isabella looked over at the slave ship, lanterns twinkled and bodies could be seen moving on deck. The meeting with the other ships Captains had been interesting. Barzal had objected immediately, Argo had just looked puzzled, clearly he had no understanding of why a woman who Isabella had raged at and banished from her ship, was now suddenly to be a Captain. It made no sense to him, but he was willing to defer to Isabella's judgement. Damien had nodded his understanding of what must have happened more than what Isabella was entirely comfortable with. He had pointed out to the others, how hard she had worked whilst on his ship, praised Charade for not shirking from any duty he had allocated her and for doing it well. He was the first to volunteer crew to assist the girl suggesting to the others that supporting her claim would work better for them than going against it. "Give her the chance," he had said, "If it doesn't work out let her find out for herself. The ship is hers; if we do not let her try we could lose the ship as well as her. If she fails, she will step down as Captain, but we will keep both her and the ship." Barzal had grumbled loudly, but given his assent, Argo had nodded his agreement, although the perplexed look had not left him. Isabella had slammed her hands on the table, "That silly arse Sol can join her again, she might have a better chance of getting that lazy sod to do some work!"

It looked like she may have been right about that, she could make out the boy actually running about the upper deck. In the water she could see the two kelpie chasing each other in the water. That had been a strange turn of events. Cavall had returned with the quiet Lipiz and stated they would follow the girl now, no explanation given.

"Yes Hawke, your cousin is now Captain of her own ship. You're not jealous are you?"

"Maker no! It's just..." she looked at Isabella, sadness colouring her features, "She won't tell me how she dealt with those slavers. That she did is a good thing, but it has changed her. I feel like I have lost another member of my family."

Isabella looked to her friend, not wanting to deflect her feelings with snark and smart jokes this time, "She is not lost to you, she has just found herself."


	12. Chapter 12

After Kirkwall – 12

All he knew was pain, searing, excruciating, and an all-encompassing agony. From the tips of his toes to the very ends of the hair on his head, all was pain. It burned, it ached it throbbed, it was all he had ever been, all he had ever known in the moments his awareness of himself had winked into existence. The scream leaving his mouth was adding to the pain, torn out from him making his throat raw, filling the air and the sound battering on his eardrums. In the next moment the pain lessened, only enough to let him gather breath for the next scream, but before it could issue from him a voice whispered in his ear,

"Who are you?"

The question rattled through his thoughts, pushing through the pain. It ran around seeking an answer, but finding none, just the holes that the pain was filling. Who am I? I am nothing. The voice repeated the question.

"I..I..Don't know...tell me."

He felt the breath on his ear as the voice laughed and moved away.

"Continue." The voice said and the pain began again. He became aware of his body, that it had legs and arms, fingers and toes, which it had lines that the pain travelled through. He tried to move them, but they were held down, by iron bands, metal that had warmed with the heat radiating from his skin.

"Don't try to move." A second voice said and began cutting at his torso, lifting off a strip of skin. He could feel the blood begin to flow and run down his sides and then cease as searing hot liquid was poured into the gap. The scream began again. He felt his thoughts try to detach themselves from the sensation, trying to drift into a perfect oblivion that would stop his consciousness from registering the pain when his body could not.

"Not this time." The first voice spoke and tendrils of...something, curled around him and stopped the escape his head had planned from this hell leaving him to try to find another means to make it stop. He found none. The cutting, bleeding and pouring went on, but the screaming stopped, his throat no longer able to make any sound, but that caused by the movement of air in and out of his lungs. He wished he could stop breathing, the only option left to get him away from this, but his body would not comply with his wish.

Without warning the cutting stopped. The iron bands that held him down were removed, but he could not move, the slightest twitch caused the pain to flare up again. This did not stop the voices from making him aware that they had physical form as they laid hands on him to turn him on his front. The agony of the movement matched by that he felt as the wooden surface he was placed on pressed against the lines where he had been cut on his front. His head turned and the wood revealed where they had made cuts on his face. He had not realised, pain was relative, the most recent cuts hurt most, so that was where his mind focussed, but it only served to mask that from previous wounds they had inflicted upon him. Was there anywhere they were not to cut him? The iron bands returned to his wrists and ankles and he felt the soft air of breath at his ear as the voice told him;

"You are Fenris. My little wolf."

He clutched at the revealed piece of information. Tasting it on his tongue as he mouthed the word. The cutting started again distracting him from what he knew the word should mean to him.

Fenris. Fenris. Fenris.

He knew it before the voice had whispered it to him. He repeated it over and over in his mind, searching through the gaps to find why this was so. He knew he had been here before, lived this before, and suffered this before. Managing to push the pain aside by this focus on something else, he became frantic in his search of the gaps, there was an answer here, and he just needed to find it. The search became more desperate, he knew he had failed before, but not this time, please not this time, he could not fail again. The maze in his head went on; each dead-end a warning that this search may be futile. He felt himself weakening, losing the will to search further. Then there it was. The word he had searched for, he had found it at last. He gathered the air in his lungs, the last of his energy, and the last pieces of willpower he had left and screamed the word.

"HAWKE!"

The sound echoed around the room, ignored by the others. The tears gathered in his eyes as nothing changed. The pain came crashing in on him and the tendrils prevented him from leaving the full horror of the sensation. Defeated he lay, knowing that this would go on until its end. He lost all hope of reprieve.

Lost in the cycle of the sensation of blade, skin ripping, bleeding and burning, he did not at first feel the finger that pulled the fine hair that had fallen over his eyes or the tears that dripped to join his own. It was the new tendrils that curled around him that brought the awareness. Slowly, so very slowly, the pain eased.

"Phase Fenris. Remember? You can do this. Phase all of you."

He remembered this voice. Remembered he trusted it. He had called out for this voice. He knew its name. Remembering what the lines they had been carving into him were for, he felt his body change its form, shift to its ethereal state, first his hand and then his arm. He did not remember using this skill to this extent before, but he went on. To help him Hawke needed him to do this, so he went on, willing it to spread to every part of him. As the last piece shimmered and changed he felt her body enter his. He could feel all of her filling him and the pain stopped. He breathed a deep breath of relief before the sparks started firing in his head, the holes started to fill and he could not help but be drawn into them.

A soft voice singing as he lays on the floor drifting to sleep, hair the colour of the sky when the sun goes to sleep. Arms that hold him close when he gets hurt. Hands that tickle him and make him laugh when he does not want to. Feeling at his ears when a guard calls him 'knife-ears' and wondering why there isn't any blood on his fingers when he looks at them afterwards. Arms that push him into a cupboard and a voice that tells him to be quiet and not come out until she says so, the scared green eyes pleading with him to do as she asks and the man's voice that booms while he sits in the dark. Running around a garden with other small boys and girls, told that this is a 'treat' while the Master is away. The questions he got no answer to. What is a slave? Why am I an elf? Marvelling at the tastes of the leftover food from the Master's table, his mother smiling as he eats. Playing with his sister in the garden, digging up the plants she tells him are weeds. Making a game of jumping out of the way when the guards try to kick him as he passes. Woken while it is still dark to go with Kenric and prepare the hearths about the mansion. Told he must stay out of the way of the Master, never let him see him. Feeling the dull ache in his belly when there are no leftovers. His mother tells him stories of living in a forest, but he does not know what that is. He asks his mother what it is like to be free, but she just starts crying, so he stops asking. Hiding with Kenric in bushes watching the men practice with their swords in the yard and then afterwards fighting Kenric with sticks. Aware that children he has played with disappear, asking his mother where they have gone and she tells him not to ask. New people appear in the kitchens, their faces sad and his mother telling him his Master has found new slaves. When they settle they tell him stories of places outside the mansion. He does not believe their tales, he feels sorry for them, but if they are true, the mansion seems like a much better place to stay.

Then his sister stops playing with him, she is to work with mother in the kitchens. He still plays at sword fights with Kenric when they can, but there is less time. Sent with the other children to clean out the stables, scrub floors, and unblock the sewers. Sent crawling up the chimneys to clear them of soot, which was fun until one boy got stuck, the master had to be called and he sent up a fire spell which burned the boy until he wasn't stuck anymore and his bones and ashes fell down to the hearth. His name was Liles, he remembered stealing scraps of food from the kitchen floors with him and them both being chased out, laughing as they ran. There was a girl named Tendra who had cried when she came to the mansion, he had asked her why she cried and she had told him the Master had killed her father and brought her here. He asks his mother if he has a father, she smiles sadly and says he did, but she thinks he is dead. She rubs his head and tells him he has his hair and he wonders how he got it when his father is dead. His days are filled with chores and at night he falls asleep in a corner with his ragged blanket in a room with many other slaves.

Then the Master finds him playing stick swordfights with Kenric and they are both sent to another part of the mansion. They are given steel swords and told to play with them all the time. At first it seems like something wondrous has happened, but as his muscles get sore and the men laugh at the two boys and give them both exercises to do that their young bodies cannot cope with and steal their food, it becomes less wondrous. He only sees his mother when he is sent to the kitchens to collect ale for the men. His sister sometimes smiles at him when she sees him, but she looks thin and tired. Other boys appear to play with the swords and the master watches them all every day when he stays in the mansion. The men stop laughing at them and begin to look worried. That is when the beatings start. Every night a few of them are taken into the barracks and they are punched and kicked. The Master notices the bruises and black eyes and tells them to stop leaving marks. The beatings go on, but now the game is to see how much they can hurt the boys without leaving evidence behind. Despite the beatings and the lack of food, he grows, taller than any of the others, but just as thin. They all get better at avoiding the worst of the beatings, and then they learn to fight back. The Master still watches them and smiles as the men frown, he tells them he wants the boys to fight back. The beatings stop. He starts making them fight each other with full size swords. If they are wounded, the Master sends out his magic and heals them and they all love him for it.

His mother tells him she is worried for his sister on one of his now rare visits to the kitchens. She fears she is to be sent to join the barrack women. He knows of these women, has seen what the guards do with them. He does not want this for her, but he cannot stop it. Then the Master announces the competition and it seems he can, if he wins. All relatives of the winner are to be set free. The guards start laughing at them again and start laying bets on who will win. The Master brings other magisters to watch them when they practice and each of them hear snippets of their conversations.

"I heard him say the winner will be stronger and faster than anyone ever before!"

"The Master says he will do a special...experiment?"

"The other magister asked him why he would free perfectly useful slaves as a prize; he said it was necessary...something about triggers to memory. What does that mean?"

"I heard him say the winner will go everywhere with him."

"What's a bodyguard?"

"What's lyrium? The smith says there's tonnes of it in his store and the Master told that magister he would need lots of it."

"The visitor asked how long he had been working on this, he said it was the...'culmination' of years of work."

"That magister asked if he would tell him about his work. The Master laughed and told him he could have his notes, but only after he was dead."

"Remember the kids who disappeared? He told that magister he had been perfecting a new technique on children and at last they had stopped dying. Do you think that's what happened to them?"

"The winner will be his special pet, does that mean you never go hungry or you have to do tricks?"

"The other magister said he was very impressed with the cells. Where are they? I never knew the mansion had any cells. What are cells anyway?"

"The smith is making a special sword for the victor."

It all sounded wonderful, even if they did not know what cells, experiments, culmination and triggers were. To them it meant a life where they would never go hungry, be with the Master all the time and have a special sword. For him it meant his sister would not go to the barracks. It was all he could ever have wanted. He had to win, it meant everything.

"What do you think being free is like Kenric?"

"I don't know, I've never been free."

"Do you think my mother and sister would like it?"

"I think your sister would like it better than being one of the barrack women."

The day of the competition dawned, all the boys were bathed and given new tunics to wear. The practice swords they had been using for months had new grips on them and the edges honed to a sharpness none of them had ever known. Huddled together in the anteroom of the arena, they laughed excitedly, bragging to each other of what they would do when they won, teasing each other and pointing out faults in each other's swordplay.

The arena was part of the Master's estate, but only used for special events, none of them had ever been in it before and when the doors opened and they were led out, each one of them marvelled at the display of opulence before them. At one end the Master sat surrounded by other magisters. The table before them was laden with every form of sweetmeat the boys could ever imagine. The colours of their robes, the flowers in large, beautiful displays surrounding the enclosure, the sparkles from the jewels around their necks, all served to make the boys feel they were very special slaves indeed. Who could not love the master that did all this for them? Caught up in the vibrant display, it took a few moments before they spotted the group at the other end of the arena. Huddled together were the members of their families, looking scared and vulnerable, no table of food was set out before them and their clothes only the ragged garments they wore every other day. The boys shouted out at them, confident reassurances that they would win them their freedom. The rest of the arena's tiered seats were filled with the guards from the mansion and the guards from the other magister's houses. To one side of the magister's enclosure were a group of people who dressed the same way as the magisters, but were obviously not part of their group. "They are the trainees." Kenric had told him, "Look, that dark-haired one is the new trainee for our Master, they call her Hadriana. Isn't she beautiful?" He was not about to comment on her beauty or lack of it, his eyes had found his mother and sister and he smiled at them, trying to nod his assurance that he was going to win this for them.

The cacophony of noise that filled the arena began to subside as the boys were spread out to stand at points on the outer edge of the fighting circle and the Master stood, his hands spread wide, waiting for the silence to fall and they would all hear his words. His red and gold trimmed robes swayed as he moved to look at everyone, all eyes converging on the man.

"Welcome all who come to witness this day. This day when I will have the slave who will put fear in the hearts of my enemies, the slave who will be the walking embodiment of the power I weald, the slave who will be mine to command with every fibre of their being.

Behold the slaves who may go free should their boy win. Never let it be said that I am not a good and magnanimous Master." He turned to face the other magisters at his table, "Each of you may choose two opponents to face each other in every round. Be careful how you choose, remember the coin that may change hands if you get it wrong." He laughed, "Septimus, I believe you came first in the draw, choose those you want to fight first."

The man obviously had a flair for the dramatic and stepped into the circle to look more closely at the candidates. He walked around, looking each of them up and down before standing in the centre. His arm reached out to point at a boy on the far side, Otto was his name, dark haired and stocky, unusual in an elf, then the hand reached out to him, he felt his heart lurch and his muscles tense. He should have known, his white hair was like a beacon. His hand bounced the sword in its grip, readying him for the coming confrontation. They walked to the centre as the magister left and assumed the stance they had been taught, waiting on the Master announcing the fight should begin.

The master waited until magister Septimus had returned to his place at the table.

"To the death. Begin."

Both of them blinked, they had never fought to kill before, stopping when one was injured or when one had obviously bested the other, but without making the final killing blow. Realisation dawned on all the boys, there would only be one winner and only one of them left alive. Their families there to witness their death and any hopes they might have that their son would earn them their freedom. He tried not to think on the boy before him, but instead on his sister and mother. The blades were raised and the fighting began, the years of training muscles to do just this meant neither of them had time to think too much about anything other than where the next blow might come from. He was vaguely aware of cheers and shouts from their audience, but his focus was on Otto's blade. Otto's larger frame meant he was slower in his movements, but this was offset by his ability to deliver a more powerful blow and if he got in the way of that, he could say goodbye to everything. Otto swung his blade in two wide sweeps, the first he avoided with a quick jump backward, but the tip did leave a slash in his tunic, the second was high and he twisted going underneath the blade to bring his own to Otto's exposed back. With no armour the blade sliced through him easily, the honed edge taking it farther and deeper than he was used to. Otto fell on his front, blood pouring from his wound, but he still breathed. The crowd screamed out for him to finish him off, not quite masking the howls of horror that came from what could only be Otto's relatives. One glance at the Master who gave a small nod and has blade crashed down on the prone boy's neck. The best thing he could do for his friend was to end it quickly. The crowd roared, their bloodlust rising. The only quiet spot in the arena the small relative's enclosure, where the howling had subsided, replaced with the sounds of weeping. As he walked back to his spot he glanced at his mother and sister, but their faces could not be seen as they comforted Otto's mother.

Two slaves ran out to remove the body and sprinkle fresh sand over that which was soaked in blood. The next magister selected Kenric and another boy, Giles. He watched without seeing them initially as the adrenalin rush he felt calmed down and the realisation that he had taken a life sank in. When he did start watching the fight, his fear built for Kenric's life and then the hopelessness of the situation hit him. If Kenric survived this bout, it would only be to fight again, one of them would die this day and it may be at the other's hand. Why was the Master doing this? Why train them for years, just to have them kill each other off? He looked at the Master to see him watching the fight indifferently, after all this time of watching them; did he really care nothing for them at all? Happy to watch them slaughter each other to entertain his friends? The crowd cheered again as Kenric won his fight; he saw the same hesitation in his friend's eyes before he thrust his sword through Giles' heart. Saw them glisten with unshed tears when he returned to his spot. The wails from relatives started again.

He was chosen again in the next bout, a female magister who looked at him in a way he had never been gazed at before, but he recognised it, the guards looked at the women the same way. He felt sick, but shut down his thoughts, the fight did not last long and he did not flinch when delivering the final thrust. This was so much easier when you did not think about it, just let muscles take over and do what they had been trained to do. The bouts kept on coming, he was chosen often giving him little time to recover, but the days and months of training had built up his stamina. The crowd booed when he was not picked, he knew they wanted to see him fall, his kills were too quick. He no longer snuck peeks at his family or the Master.

The inevitable happened, only four of them were still left standing and he and Kenric were picked. The Master shouted "Begin.", but they stood for a moment, facing each other. Neither of them wanted to do this, they gave each other a nod, the years of friendship and looking out for each other acknowledged in the gesture and the last goodbye. The crowd started shouting at them to start, impatient to see blood fly once more. Both raised their swords, but at that moment when they were both supposed to come forward to clash with each other, Kenric dropped his. He could not stop the forward momentum of his own blow and the blade sliced down the front of his friend. "Free your sister, make this worth it." Were the last words Kenric said as he fell. The crowd howled, feeling cheated. He was oblivious to the catcalls as the lifeblood poured from his friend and his eyes gave a flicker before death claimed him.

The slaves who came for the body had to push him away, shoving him back towards his spot at the edge. It was no surprise that the last magister to choose picked him. The crowd were baying for his blood, he thought they might get it this time, his stamina was beginning to fail, he knew it. Cal was up next and he had not fought at all yet, the only energy he had lost was that from standing too long at the edge. As he stepped forward he felt it, that old familiar feeling of the Master's magic healing him, recharging him. It was only a small amount, enough to work well on him, but not enough to be picked up by the guards who could tell magic was being used. In their excitement at the competition approaching its climax, it was unlikely that any of them were focussed on anyone's use of magic. He dared not look at the Master. The message was clear; his Master wanted him to win. The last two boys could show skill far beyond his own, it would not matter, and they would die. He wondered at what point the decision had been made, could it have been long before this day had even dawned? Was this whole competition a farce? Cal fell quickly, despite his relative freshness, he had watched too much and fear had overtaken him. He died never having taken a life himself.

The Master allowed an interlude before the final bout, stating it was unfair to let him fight one last time without a little rest, but as the coin changed hands, he could see it was to maximise his winnings. Would his Master's winnings be enough to pay for what had happened here today? Whether it was or not mattered little to him. The cost of his sister's freedom was too high. Twenty boys had stood in this arena at the start, eighteen young men had died, one more would and it would not be him. Kenric's words repeated in his head, he would make this worth it. He did not know how or when he would do it, but his friend's death would not be for nothing.

The last battle with Marlin lasted longer than any other. The sound of steel on steel echoed around the arena, the crowd's cheers becoming louder with each clang. Marlin began to tire, his reaction time slowed and the power of his thrusts became weaker. The magic his Master had given him stayed with him and his stamina did not lessen as his opponents did. The fight lasted a few moments more before the last sweep of his sword cleft Marlin's head clean from the rest of his body.

He stood in the centre of the arena, his tunic in tatters, soaked in the blood of all those he had killed. The crowd was going wild; the quick kills of before forgotten in the glorious spectacle he had given them in fighting Marlin. His Master walked towards him, his arms spread wide in acceptance of his champion. He beckoned his mother and sister from the group of distraught, grief stricken relatives and handed them their papers declaring their free state and they were lead away by Hadriana. He hung his head, unable to watch them leave. A slave came forward carrying a sword laid flat on a cushion.

"Take it and hold it up high." His Master told him, "Your audience needs to see the victor wield his prize." As he held the sword up and the crowd cheered and clapped, he realised that it was he who was the prize being wielded by the Victor, he had won nothing.

He was put in a cell while the revelries went on up above. The next day his Master came.

"Who are you?"

"I am Leto."

"The next time I ask, that will not be the answer you give."

He felt a moment of fear when Hawke left his body that the gaps in his head would empty once more, but they did not. Neither did the pain return. He released the phase and his dream body began to solidify once more. He sat up to see this place just as it had been all those years ago, just as he had dreamed it time and time again, when they had lifted him off the table, the procedure complete. This time though it was as if time stood still. The dream had stopped before its end. Danarius and his two helpers were frozen, Danarius with his arms folded and a malicious grin on his face. He had enjoyed watching every minute of the pain that had been inflicted on the elven body laid on the table. One helper bent over the table with the knife, the other ready with the pail of molten lyrium. This dream could not be captured and placed in the dungeons of his dream fortress, but it was contained, made still.

Hawke stood beside the table, her face grimacing as her eyes registered what she was seeing. He saw the sparks dancing round her head.

"Time to leave this place." He said quietly, "I have spent too long here."

"Me too, and I have barely arrived. You should have called me sooner."

"This dream had me like a fly in a spider web. In this dream I did not know how to call you. Until now. It can't catch me again."

The early morning sun streamed in the cabin window. The night before when he had climbed into bed beside Hawke seemed like a lifetime ago. In a sense it was, his memories were all back and he had reclaimed them all. He nuzzled in at her neck, deliberately waking her, his hand moving over her belly delighting in the secret he knew it held. He knew he had won when she wriggled into him more and encouraged him to continue his nuzzling.

"I know what your sparks are." He whispered in her ear.

"How can you know that? They are a dream thing and probably a mage thing I just do not know about. Did you ask Harral?"

"I know hearts Hawke, when you were inside me in the dream, I felt three."

"Three?...Oh! Three!...shit that means..."

He kissed her cheek, "I'll leave you to work it out. I need to talk to my sister."

He finds Varania sitting on deck sewing.

"Do you remember a boy named Kenric?"

_A/N In the Fenris storyline in game, I was puzzled as to why a magister would offer up freeing slaves as a prize for a competition to get a slave bodyguard. A very expensive prize for someone you own anyway! Having lots of slaves to hand, why not just pick one, train them up and do all the nasty things you wanted to do to them? Surely you don't need to go through the palaver of competitions and prizes to do this. In addition, why on earth would anyone try to win a competition where the prize is to get your brain rebooted and your skin fried? It also puzzled me how Fenris and Hawke have sex, he gets his memories back and then they go again causing him to be afraid to go near her again for three years! When they do get their act together there is no mention of their intimacy having a similar effect. In this chapter I think I have answered some of the questions that have puzzled me for so long, at least to my own satisfaction. I would appreciate it if you could let me know if you think so too or if I've got it wrong._

_Anyway – on to Minrathous!_


	13. Chapter 13

After Kirkwall – 13

"Carver Hawke! Get your arse in here! And get that Anders bastard in here as well."

Carver tried to pick his way through the crowd to make his way to the Warden Commander's office. Ansburg just had busier and busier. Recruitment had gone through the roof since the mages and templars had started fighting. Most of the new recruits were mages, desperate to escape it all, but there were a few ex-templars that found their way in as well, just desperately unhappy that they were being told to kill so many mages or unhappy at being in the front line facing very angry mages. None of them put off by the thought of losing their life during the joining and a surprising number of them surviving. As he made his way, he kept jumping up, hoping to see Anders somewhere in the sea of faces, but as he neared the door, Anders found him.

"What do you think? We could pretend we never heard him and just go." Carver can see the hope glittering in Anders eyes. He knows it is not just avoiding the Warden Commander, but leaving altogether. Anders will not do it though, not without him, a promise had been made.

Carver sighs, "Probably better we go in, it sounds like we are in trouble already. Leaving will just delay the arse-kicking we're going to get anyway."

Anders shrugs and they continue to make their way to the office door.

"Shut that blasted door. I can't think with that racquet going on." The commander orders as they make their way in. He waves at them to sit down in the chairs in front of his desk. Two of his senior wardens sit on either side of him. The commander throws the letter across the desk at him.

"There are not many people who send you letters Hawke, we know the ones you get from that Aveline woman, so when this appeared, we guess it's from your sister. Go ahead, read it."

Carver picks up the letter. The seal is still intact. It is from his sister, he recognises the writing. He hesitates to open it, letters from his sister are so rare and they usually mean trouble, besides, it is private, does the Commander expect him to read it out to them? He walks to the corner of the room, hoping this will give them the message that there will be no oratory until he has read it through and will decide for himself whether they should be party to its contents.

_Brother,_

_ I hope this finds its way to you. I do not want to say too much, just in case it finds its way into other hands, but we are in Kont-Arr and Damian says there is a reliable Grey Warden drop point. Fenris said you would want to know you are going to be an uncle. How does he know that? What have you said to him? Anyway, we are still heading to Minrathous; there are a few things to sort out. I will get in touch again after that. Isabella says my pirate days will be over. There is a strict rule of no babies on Pirate ships!_

It is short, not that he expected anything lengthy from his sister. Never a great one for letter writing, the surprise was that she had sent anything at all. Who the hell was Damian? The uncle news was good, but he had a hard time imagining his sister settling down. All he could hope for was that he might get to see his niece or nephew some day. He tucks the letter into a fold in his uniform, the Grey Wardens do not need to know that the missing Champion of Kirkwall is knocked up, that's family business.

"Well?" the Commander bawls at him.

"Well what?" he barks back. Anders snickers, glad to see his influence is rubbing off and Carver is less inclined to accept all that his 'superiors' expect of him.

"Where is she? Does the letter say?" the Commander growls and the two on either side of him scowl.

"Why do you need to know?" Carver asks, still not willing to give up information until he knows why the Commander has called him and Anders into this office.

"Don't be an idiot Hawke! The Champion of Kirkwall sparks off a war and then fucks off. Your sister is trouble and if more is coming we need to know which direction it's coming from!"

"Is that the only reason you've called us in here?" Carver knows it can't be, otherwise why ask for Anders.

The commander bangs his hand on the table,"Of course not! Decisions have to be made, mainly because of this idiot here!" he shouts pointing at Anders.

"Me?" Anders looks at him innocently.

"Yes you! The dickhead that let you become a warden should be fed to the Darkspawn!"

"Yeah, well. About that dickhead..."

"Don't interrupt me! There is a damned angry bastarding Prince after you! Self-righteous prick has gathered himself an army and if he finds out you're here, Ansburg will find itself under attack! The job of the Grey Wardens is not to fight off fucking Royalty! You are leaving! You know you want to go anyway; those itchy feet of yours would carry you off at some time. The Wardens would just like to have some control over where that is!"

"That's a fair point you make there Commander." Anders looks at him with feigned understanding and sympathy for the position the Commander has found himself in. The Commander shakes his head at him in disgust and turns towards Carver once more,

"So Hawke, for the Maker's sake, will you tell me where your sister is? If she is where we think she is, it will tie in nicely for a little mission we have in mind for you two."

Carver hangs his head,"She says she's heading for Minrathous."

"Oh Carver, how could you?" Anders rolls his eyes at him, "selling out your own sister to this lot, that's bad."

"One more word out of you Anderfel, and maybe we'll just tie you up and send you to that Prince as a gift!" The Commander glares at him before turning to the two on either side, who nod at him.

"We thought that might be the case, we got a report from Antiva City she had been sighted there..."

"Who told you that? Do you have someone following her?" Carver demands.

The Commander looks at him wryly, "We tried for a while, but ...no, there is no one following her. We have a friend to the Wardens there, someone who worked with the Hero of Ferelden."

"Ah yes...the dickhead." Anders mutters.

The Commander gives him a baleful look before going on, "Word came from Seere that all the witches had disappeared, heading into the Tevinter Imperium to help out an apostate mage who sounded a lot like your sister. Reports of slave ships going missing, one came in at the back of this letter. Your sister has been busy, but not untraceable. We thought you might like to warn her that the Seekers are hunting her. If she doesn't want them to find her, tell her she will have to start keeping a lower profile."

Carver's brow furrows as he processes what his Commander is telling him. The niggle of once again being in his sister's shadow returns, "Why would you help her avoid the Seekers?"

The Commander steeples his fingers, brushing his lower lip with his forefingers, "The Wardens and the Chantry have a...shall we say difficult relationship. If they gain control of your sister, the fine balance of that relationship could change in their favour. The Wardens do not wish a return to the incarceration of mages, while the changes wrought by your sister's triggering of this internal war are not clear yet, if the Chantry has her, a return to that would be guaranteed. As her brother, you are in a position to stop that happening.

We want someone in Minrathous, one heck of a lot of mages have been heading there. No doubt hoping to have a better time of it there than they do here. If the Tevinter Imperium gets enough of them, they may get ideas about expanding their empire again. If they do, a bit of a heads up on their plans could be very useful. So...A bit of recon work for you, have a family reunion with your sister and get this bugger out from under our feet. What do you say warden?"

Anders claps his hands, "Oh please, please, please Warden Carver, can we go? I want to spy on the magisters!"

Carver gives him a withering look. On the road with Anders again might not be such a bad thing, he was good company...when he stopped whining about the bad lot of mages. He was not doing so much of that lately, not since the war had started and his internal friend seemed to have gone off on a holiday.

"Fine, we'll go."

"Good man! You'd better go on horseback, it's probably a good idea to have both of you out of the Free Marches sooner rather than later."

"Horses?" Anders turns pale.

"What's that mountain?" Hawke had been watching it as they sailed round the coast. Watching as its enormity slowly became apparent.

"They call it The White Spire; legend has it the peak holds up the roof of the world, why do you ask?" Isabella looks at her friend curiously; she has not seen this look on her face before.

"It looks familiar..."

"How can it look familiar? You've never been this far north before!"

Hawke frowns and turns, seeking out Fenris with her eyes. Isabella follows her line of sight; he has stopped his work to stare at the mountain as well.

"What is it with the fucking mountain? It is a big one I'll grant you, but it is just another chunk of rock that sticks out of the ground. There is nothing special about it, another place this ship cannot go."

Hawke ignores her question, "Can we get closer? I mean, can we drop anchor somewhere? I'd like to check something."

"Don't tell me you want to go ashore and climb that beast, are you crazy? Do not answer that! I know you're nuts!" Isabella rubs her head, "There's a small cove the pirates sometimes use. We could stop in there. A last land stop before Qarinus might not be a bad thing, but please Hawke, tell me why I'm doing this?"

Hawke gives her a wistful smile, "I saw it in a dream."

As the ships sail closer to shore, the cove Isabella spoke of becomes clearer. Big enough to allow all five ships to set down anchors and protect them within its tree-lined sides. The cove lies at the edge of the beginning of the Arlathan Forest. A multitude of tree varieties stretch back inland as far as the eye can see. With no other ships in sight they feel it is safe to assume whatever pirates might use this place are long gone.

The few wooden buildings that have been erected just above the tide line are deserted, but the trappings of pirate activity are still visible. Empty crates and barrels are scattered around the buildings. Empty wine and beer bottles are strewn about the floors alongside scraps of leather and broken daggers. The chests they find in the largest building contain only ragged clothing and an old collection of elven ears. A blacksmith's forge sits only a few feet from a sawmill, but it has been a long time since the coals have been fired up and the rust spots on the wheel of the saw attest to it having been a lengthy period of time since anyone used it.

"I thought you said that pirates used this place?" Hawke asks Isabella.

"They did, but obviously not for some time. I guess pirating along this coast has become less lucrative."

"What do you mean, less lucrative?"

"Think about it Hawke, the Qunari run their ships in this sea, pirating is not part of the qun way so if you are caught, they kill you. There are a few merchant ships, which trade with the Qunari, but most goods to Minrathous are taken over land. The contracts Gianna got for Minrathous bound goods are for those items that are large and heavy or in such a large amount that going by land is impractical and more costly. Pirates like their stolen goods to be light and easy to sell on to their fences. I suspect that Damian's rule in Llomeryn made it more fun to be a pirate around the Waking Sea than up here."

Argo waddles up to Isabella, "Good call Cap'n comin' in 'ere. Permission requested to fire up the old metal melter, the lass needs some 'elp with yon ship."

Isabella gives him a steely-eyed look, "Are you going soft Argo? That lass still has a long way to go to prove herself."

The last ship to come into the cove they look over to see Charade directing her crew before they go ashore. Isabella knows how bad slavers are at taking care of their ships and this one is no exception. While Charade looks as if she is handling her new role well, she knows little of the multitude of jobs that are required to keep a ship seaworthy. Isabella sighs as Argo sensibly keeps his own counsel and waits for her to come to the right decision. The girl had changed and Isabella was not blind to those changes, but not quite ready to forgive her for what she had done before. Argo was not stupid, he must have read the signs as she had and known what the girl must have done to get hold of that ship. His willingness to help her came from respect of what that meant.

"Fine Argo, do it, but there is no need to do a full refit on the ship, just get it seaworthy and make the crew's quarters more bearable. We can't afford the time." The little man gives her his toothless grin and cocks his hat at her before waddling off at speed to meet Charade as her skiff slides up the shore.

Turning to Hawke she reiterates what she has said to Argo, "If you want to do whatever it is you want to do, then start now. You have until that little man repairs that ship ready to go back out. No more than that."

Hawke nods. Fenris is ready, a pack with food and water sitting at his feet. They turn towards the edge of the tree line, about to make their way into the forest when Varania calls to them, Trix and Alano standing beside her. "May we join you?" before they can respond or refuse the request, Varania ploughs on, "Please let us come with you, it has been so long since I stretched my legs properly and it's not healthy for this boy to be on board ship for so long. The three of us are no help to the rest of them, please let us enjoy being on land for a while. I promise we won't get in the way."

"I can tell you if there are any mages out there." Trix chips in.

"My spark is good enough to light a camp fire!" Alano entreats them.

Hawke gives a small grin. She has learnt Trix's capabilities for herself and Alano is unaware of the flames she can throw that would make his spark unnecessary. Still, it might be an opportunity for some more teaching and that might make this trip worthwhile if they do not find anything more than a spot that matches the view of the mountain from her dream. She looks to Fenris silently asking him of any objections he has to their party increasing in number and can see the slight irritation he has as he mentally waves goodbye to a night alone with Hawke in a forest.

"Come then, but fill up a pack such as this one and boy," he says looking sternly at Alano, "bring that dagger you've been hiding under your bed. It will be no use to you there when a wolf finds you."

A slight blush quickly replaces the fleeting look of fear that crosses the boy's face as he moves a fold in the armoured robe Varania had made for him to reveal the hilt of the dagger Fenris spoke of. Trix turns to show the ready prepared pack already on her back.

"Then that's it! Let's go."

The forest swallows them up as they head towards the mountain. Progress is slow but steady; roots on the forest floor, hidden by leaves and plant life are ready to trip them if they are not careful. Whilst their view through the trees is restricted, the trees are not so close together that light from the sun in the clear blue sky above does not filter through, seeming to dance on the ground as the breeze shifts the leaves in the canopy above them. A growing sense of the trees as sentinels, guarding and keeping look out for them gathers as they move forward, a path seems to emerge as if they also help them towards their destination.

Trix makes her way to Hawke's side, "How do you know we are heading in the right direction?"

"Why? Do you think we are headed in the wrong direction?"

Trix blushes, "No! It is just that...with all the trees about, I can't see where we are meant to be heading, the land is quite flat and there have been no rises where you can look out over the trees to see anything. Back at Seere, the mountain had only small groves; I could look out over the village and see far out into the ocean. Here, we can only see a short way in front, so I wondered how you know which way to go."

Hawke takes Trix's hand in hers and the girl gasps as she feels the strength of Hawke's magic touch her, but the magic is familiar as she senses her own talent being used by Hawke, spreading out far beyond the trees in front of them. Instead of sensing a mage presence, she feels something else, a pulse of magic, but it does not come from a living thing. It takes her a moment before she realises what this is. She had felt the same thing back in Seere at Glitterglade cave, but had never paid much attention to it. A large patch of lyrium and Hawke was using it as a guide. Trix lets go of Hawke's hand and sends out her own magic to see if she can do the same thing. Although her magic is not as strong she can feel the same weakened pulse from the lyrium patch and giggles at the new found use of her talent.

"I don't know if it is the right spot, but when I looked out from the ship, it seemed like it was roughly at the place I wanted to see. So that's how I know where we are going." Hawke explains.

"What about you Fenris? Do you trust this magical form of navigation?" Trix teases, knowing Fenris does not like to trust anything magical, including her.

Fenris gives her a scowl, "I trust Hawke, but you would be stupid to think that is all the guidance I need. Look up; the position of the sun or the stars in the sky is what guides me. Look up in the day or at night, study the sky enough and it becomes like a map and you know where to go. Listen for the sound of water flowing and the direction the wind is blowing the leaves in the trees. When you have those that are chasing you and would kill you if they caught you, you learn quickly the ways of navigating on land. It is always good to know where you are going."

"Could you show me?" Alano pipes up. Fenris looks down at him. Ever since the boy had shown him his spark, Fenris had been cool towards him. His basic mistrust of mages might have been tempered by Hawke and his sister's actions, but it was still there and he realised he had been unfair on the boy. Thinking that once someone found they had magical talent and would then be uninterested in anything else was wrong. This boy showed him this. The boy had an unquenchable curiosity, perhaps learning of things other than magic was the key to a temperate mage, Hawke did it and so did his sister. Why had he not realised this before? His fault had been in thinking that he had nothing to offer mages, yet here was this boy looking to him to learn things he could not learn from other mages.

"Yes. I can show you and perhaps how to use that dagger before you gut yourself with it." He says as he repositions said dagger about Alano's person so that it does not jab into him at every step he takes.

They journey on. Fenris pointing out to Alano how moss grows on trees, paying attention to where the sun is, and listening to the wind. They know when Trix sends out her magic, feeling for herself the pull of the lyrium as she giggles each time she does it. As they decide to make camp for the night, Trix knows they will reach their destination the next day as she becomes more aware of sensing distance. Although Fenris insists that he will keep watch, the night passes without event. The very distant howl of a wolf the only sound to cause him concern. It is Hawke and Trix who have something to be concerned about when they send out their magic on waking. Both of them sense it, another mage right beside the spot of lyrium. As they journey on Trix and Hawke regularly check, but the mage stays exactly in the same place.

The sun is high in the sky as they near where the lyrium patch should be and they all become tense. Blades are drawn, mana is pulled, and ready for release should this mage prove malevolent. The trees clear to reveal a space the same size as the space in Hawke's dream. The view of the mountain matches it perfectly and she can hear the sound of running water where she knows the stream should flow. The only difference between this clearing and the one in her dream is the absence of buildings or walls. Hawke has to force her eyes away from the scene she is so familiar with to focus on the two figures standing in the centre. They are Dalish from the look of their apparel, the woman a Keeper and so the magic user that she and Trix had been sensing. However, it is the male elf who takes her breath away when he turns at their approach. From behind, she was aware that the colour of his hair matched Fenris', but when he turned, the similarity was beyond coincidence. The same tall, lanky frame, the long nose, the green eyes and the shape of the mouth unmistakable. Hawke heard Varania cry out before the differences became apparent, whilst this man looked older, all down the left side of his face and looking like it continued under his clothing, were scars, angry, ugly scars. His left hand was covered in them, as was his left foot. This man had been burned, a long time ago, but the scars were testament to how bad the burning had been.

Fenris was oblivious to the close resemblance this man had to him. Rarely taking the time to even glance in a mirror, he cared little about how he looked or what he looked like. He glared at the Dalish mage, recognising the apparel as that of a Keeper and instantly marking her as the threat. He remembered only too well what had happened with the only Dalish mages he knew. That little witch Merrill had dabbled in blood magic and her Keeper Marathari had taken a demon inside her to save the wretched elf in her attempts to unlock the secrets of that damned mirror. Dalish mages were only a notch less evil than magisters as far as he was concerned.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" he demanded, his sword raised ready to cut them down the instant either of them made one false move. The woman smiled at him, clearly unworried by the sword in his hand. Her violet eyes sparkled as they looked over the five of them.

"I am Gisharel, of the Ralaferin Clan and this is Anarrion. We have been waiting for you."

Hawke's mind started racing once the gentle lilting tones of the Keeper's voice washed over them, dripping with reassurance that no harm would come to them from her. The name, she had heard that name, not from Merrill, but something to do with Merrill. Then it came to her. The books in Merrill's house... Gisharel...Gisharel.

"You wrote books! Books about Arlathan!" she blurted out.

Gisharel gave her a graceful nod, "I did, and I still do. It is good that you know who I am. However, perhaps it would be better to talk with swords sheathed and magic undrawn."

It was Varania who touched Fenris' shoulder, her voice breaking, "Please brother, put your sword away, you will not be killing this man. He is our father."

"My father is dead! Mother told me he was dead!"

"Dead to her and dead to us when she said the words. She saw him burn and believed no one could survive that. This she told me. Please brother, believe me now. This is our father. Look in his eyes."

Fenris looked at the older elf, and remembered those caught reflections in pools of water when he had been running from Danarius' soldiers. He remembered the time when Isabella had thrown a mirror at him and told him to take a long hard look at his own face when he had asked why Carver was always looked so grumpy. He remembered seeing his reflection when passing windows in Hightown. The untouched side of the face in front of him was the same as all those other reflections, a few more lines around the eyes perhaps and the skin a shade darker than those reflections he remembered. The elf stared back at him with deep sadness and he knew it was true. It was hard to take in, having always believed he had no father, to find one standing in front of him was confusing. The emotions swirled inside him, until one question emerged.

"Why didn't you come for us?" Fenris feels anger build at the man who lowers his head, his shame at the accusation in his son's question evident. Gisharel stepped beside him to gently explain, "Look at your father elf, those scars are from the burns the Magister gave him when he took you from him, he almost died trying to stop him taking your mother away. The burns he sustained in trying to stop him taking away the other women and children as well. He would have left us to find you had I not made him stay. In his injured state he would have thrown his life away for nothing, you could not be found."

Happy to direct his anger at someone else he turns to the Keeper, "So you are to blame! Hiding like cowards behind trees while your children suffer! " Hawke's voice cuts through the fog he can feel building in his head,

"Fenris, remember! Danarius is the one who did this! Danarius! The magister _you_ killed!"

Gisharel looks at him in disbelief. "You killed a magister?" she asks, not heeding the sharp steel of the sword Fenris has still not lowered.

"I had help." He spits at her.

"It's done then." Annarrion's scarred hand takes gentle hold of Fenris blade, lowers it, and steps forward to take his son and his daughter in his arms.

Gisharel walks over to Hawke, Trix and Alano, "They need time to talk and mend. While they do I would talk with you."

Hawke looks at the reunited family and feels the wave of grief hit her deeply. Her mother, father and sister will never return. Carver is lost to her and Fenris is her family now. Reluctant to admit it to herself that she feels a stab of envy that she is not included in the family reunion, she turns to the Keeper, feeling deflated and defeated, "What would you talk with me about?"

"I think first how a shemlen came to return two lost children to the clan."

"I think first how a knife ear knew to be here for that return."

Gisharel chuckles, acknowledging the tit for tat insult Hawke has just given. "Come with me child, there is something you should see before we get to know each other better."

The Keeper leads them to a pile of rocks at the edge of the clearing, behind them she disappears down the stairs that were hidden to them before. The grey stone stairs spiral down into darkness. Hawke releases some magic to create a small sphere of light and follows her down. Alano and Trix behind her, whispering to each other, wondering if they can persuade her to teach them the trick. The stairs lead a long way down before opening into a large open chamber, the ring of its walls mirroring the clearing in the trees above them. In the centre is the largest lyrium crystal Hawke has ever seen, surrounding it are gradually smaller crystals which give the whole the look of a blossoming flower which gives out a glowing blue light, bright enough that there is no longer any need for the sphere Hawke had made. Threads of blue lyrium radiate from the base of the crystals to the walls of the chamber and run up them to chase each other across the ceiling to the centre once more.

"This is the lyrium we could feel." Trix whispers, awed at the show of light, "Glitterglade Cave is nothing compared to this, that crystal is huge!"

"You have read my books, you know I have tried to study and find clues about the lost Elvenahn city of Arlathan. I believe this chamber to be all that is left of an ancient tower on the edge of the lands of Arlathan. There may be more, but this is the only one I have found. There were no old relics left here, no old papers, no remains of books to give a clue to its use or the people who stayed here. However, I believe I found a reference in an old parchment, which mentioned a Watchtower. The only reason that I think this may be it was that it also mentioned lyrium." Gisharel lowers herself to the floor and beckons the others to do likewise. Alano positions himself right beside her and sighs as her arm encloses him and pulls him into her side. Hawke is struck by the aura of wisdom and serenity that Gisharel exudes, she has a way of making those around her feel safe and Alano had obviously succumbed to it, that she had followed the Keeper down to this place showed how much of her own faith she had placed in her.

Gisharel smiles, "Before we begin this parley, I am at a disadvantage. You know who I am and Anarrion above, I would like to know whom I am addressing." She looks at Hawke expectantly, but it is Trix who steps into the pause as Hawke thinks how much she should say.

"Well I'm Trix, I'm from Seere and I was a witch, but now I'm learning to be a mage. This is Alano, although he is an elf, he is kind of my little brother now. He comes from Antiva and he is a mage too. And this is Hawke. She is...well she's Hawke; she is kind of my big sister now. She's married to Fenris, the elf with the funny tattoos and Varania is his sister, she teaches me magic with Hawke and she made me these new clothes!" Trix twirls round, showing her pleasure in the replacement for the ragged clothes she had been wearing before.

Hawke smiles at Trix and her complete lack of deference towards the learned Keeper in front of her, she had never met any elves before joining with them, let alone a Keeper, so had no idea of the usual deep respect the Dalish held for their Keepers. Gisharel did not take offence, merely thanking Trix for making the introductions.

"When Annarrion's wife was taken with the others, we left the Arlathan forest and have not returned until now. Carrillian was my First, Varania was very young then, and Fenris...he had not entered this world yet. They were out searching for Ironbark and plants when the mage and his soldiers attacked them. It was not the first time we had lost people to Tevinter, but it was the most we had lost in one attack. I knew the power of Tevinter was rising again when our people could no longer be safe in the Arlathan Forest. So we left. I believed the Tevinter Imperium had bathed enough in our people's blood." Gisharel frowns as she remembers that awful time in her clan's history. In large part, she blamed herself, in her search for clues to the lost city of Arlathan they had stayed in that place too long.

"As we left we came to the clearing above. I remember feeling its power and searching for the source. I found the stairs and so this chamber. Annarrion's burns were so bad; my magic had little power to heal, so we brought him down here. The lyrium boost was enough to prevent his death, but as you saw, the scars remained. Exhausted I fell asleep in this chamber and was drawn into the Beyond. It was unlike any other time I have spent there. The ghost of one of the Ancients spoke to me; at least I assumed she was a ghost for she was neither demon nor spirit. She told me of her dream where she had seen my return with Annarrion. She said I was to meet with 'The Wavemaker', a human that I would enable the help to be given so that peace could return to those of the Elvenahn. She said I would know I had found this human when Annarrion's blood returned to him. She told me the signs I had to look for that would let me know when the time to return came. So we returned and it has brought me to you. I believe you to be this 'Wavemaker'. So please, tell me of yourself and we shall see what help I can offer you."

Hawke is unsure of what to make of what Gisharel has told her. She was reminded of her last meeting with Flemeth. Veiled references to future events and Hawke's part in them. Hawke wished Flemeth had been clearer, the trigger for the start of a war within Thedas was not what Hawke had planned to be and now here was another soothsayer hinting at her involvement in another world-wrenching event. Peace for the elves sounded good, but Hawke was only too aware of the terrible things that could take place on the road to that peace. She did not think she wanted to be a trigger again, let someone else do it, why did it need to be her? Gisharel was looking at her expectantly, offering help that she was not sure she required at all. No decisions needed to be made right now, why not tell her tale?

Hawke was surprised at how easy it was to talk to Gisharel. She had that same Dalish Keeper way of talking that Marathari had, but her personality was warmer. Hawke was sure that the Dalish in her camp would be friendlier than those at Sundermount. Or perhaps not after they found out it was through her trying to help Merrill that Marathari had died. Alano and Trix listened enraptured at the stories of Hawke's life before they knew her, but as she started relating the parts they knew, both of them drifted off to sleep. Gisharel caught Hawke's increasing glances at the stairs,

"You are worried about them, about him."

Hawke nods, "For a long time Fenris had no memories of his life before Danarius...changed him. Those memories have only recently returned, a returned father he did not know he had on top of that...I don't know, it's a lot for him to deal with."

Gisharel gives Hawke a long penetrating gaze with those eyes that have taken on a purple hue in the blue light, "You are very different from other Shemlen. There are few who will talk with an elf, fewer still who would help one, but not only do you help them, you went and married one. I have to admit that when the ghost told me the Wavemaker was a human, I was distraught. I could not believe one of your kind would be the one to lead us to a new path. Yet now, with you here in front of me, I am filled with hope. It is just unclear what the first step to that new path will be. I assume you will be the one to take it, what help do you need?"

"I don't know." Hawke says simply. This journey they were on had started only with the purpose of finding Orana's Poppa and freeing him so they could be reunited. They had picked up a few more reasons to head to Minrathous on the way, Feynriel needed help, Barzal was hoping to find his sisters, finding Lucarius and stopping his demand for child slaves and the Seere witches hoped to find their captured children. After Fenris' memories had returned, she knew he had talked with Hamamhakis and they were planning to gain entry to Danarius' estate to destroy his notes on the procedures used on them both. What help could the Dalish provide to achieve any of those things? How was doing any of these things going to lead to peace for the Dalish?

"Perhaps there is something you can help with. The clearing above...it has been part of my dreams since I was a child in Ferelden. A sanctuary in my sleep, a place I can feel safe when the real world holds nothing but terrors and danger. I always believed I had created it in my mind as a way of escaping from the fear, a way to keep myself safe from the inherent dangers there are to one who has magical talent. Yet I come here and find it is a real place. How can that be?"

Gisharel shakes her head, "I am sorry child, and I can give you no answers that would explain that. I can only suggest that somehow it has called to you. When I first came here I could sense it was a place where we could be safe and would have stayed had the ghost not instructed us to leave."

The sound of footsteps on the stairs herald the arrival of Fenris, Varania and Annarrion to the chamber. All three look exhausted, the emotional toll on their reunion evident. Hawke and Gisharel stand as the three approach and Annarrion comes to stand in front of Hawke,

"It was a human magic user who took my family from me; it is strange that another should bring them back. It fills my heart with sorrow that my Carrillian is not with them, but my son tells me a part of her comes with you. I would not have believed that a human could do so much for an old elf. Thank you."

Hawke does not know what to say to him. The responsibility for the return of his family does not lie with her, she has done nothing to deserve his thanks, but as she looks at the three of them, she accepts that maybe she had a small part in it, even if it was only curiosity to see if her dream place had a counterpart in reality.

"I'm hungry." Alano's sleepy child's voice rings out through the chamber, breaking the awkward silence of the adults.

"You're always hungry." Trix states as she wakes up also.

Packs are emptied as food is found and shared. The group falls into an easy camaraderie as stories are told and strangers become less strange. As the evening wears on sleep claims them all. No closer to deciding what help the Dalish can offer, Gisharel and Hawke agree to discuss it in the morning.

"Ahem!"

Hawke gives a small curse under her breath. It had been a perfectly wonderful idea that she meet with Fenris in her dream place, with so many people around them, they had not had the chance to talk alone. She barely noticed that it had altered to resemble its real counterpart. They had barely started the kiss when that cough had told her someone else was there.

"I'm sorry, but I got this really strong feeling that I should find your dream. I had some trouble, I can see why. It's changed a bit here." Feynriel's blush blooms full in his cheeks, "And, um...congratulations by the way."

"Congratulations?" Hawke asks puzzled as to why Feynriel should congratulate them.

"The sparks, two of them, that means twins doesn't it? All women get the sparks in their dreams when they are... you know. You know you are having twins don't you? Oh damn, this changes everything doesn't it? You won't be coming to Minrathous now will you?"

"Calm down Feynriel, it changes nothing; we're still coming, not too much longer now."

The boy continues to wring his hands despite the reassurance, "I'm not sure I can hold out much longer. My Master's demon is showing through more often, it will force me to use the blood magic soon and I will not be able to stop it. There is talk of an Archon games coming up, my master insists that I should be experienced in using it before they take place."

Hawke is at a loss as to how to help Feynriel with this and she cannot think of any way to reassure him or bolster his resolve. Anxiety creeps in at the edge of her thoughts that they may not make it to Minrathous in time. She paces on the grass, afraid to look at Fenris and see the 'I told you so' look on his face.

"Halam sahlin!" a new voice rings out. Hawke turns to see the blue translucent figure of an elven woman who waves a hand and Gisharel appears in front of her, her mouth ready to scream in her shock at being hauled from her own dream into this one. It does not get the chance to be uttered, as the woman starts speaking rapidly to her in a language, which Hawke surmises, must be old elven. As the alien words issue from her, the realisation comes that this is the ancient ghost Gisharel had talked of.

Slowly Gisharel calms as the woman talks and begins to nod her understanding of what the woman is telling her. Suddenly she stops talking and impatiently waves Gisharel towards Feynriel, who gracefully walks towards the young man. Feynriel has stood and watched them both through the whole exchange with his mouth wide open.

"There is no need to fear child. I am Gisharel, Keeper of the Ralaferin Clan and this one is a Dreamer as you are. She was born in a time long, long ago and she wishes to teach you, if you will let her."

Feynriel's eyes flicker between the two of them as he tries to control his fear and digests what this strange woman is telling him, "She's not a demon is she? She does not look like one, but then demons can look like anything they want to in dreams. How do I know I can trust her or you for that matter?"

A loud impatient stream of elven words issue from the Dreamer before Gisharel turns once again to Feynriel, "She says if she were a demon she would not require me to interpret for her and suggests that you stop being so stupid and let her help you so that you can stop worrying about demons controlling your talent."

Feynriel laughs, "I guess she isn't a demon, demons would never talk to someone like that! But before she teaches me anything I have a lot of questions."

"Please, I beg you, leave the questions until later; she's waited a long time for you. Just tell her she can teach you. She won't do it unless you agree."

"Hawke?" Feynriel pleads, desperate for some guidance before he makes what could be a bad decision.

Hawke simply nods at him, feeling that there is little choice but to trust this apparition.

"Alright! Fine, but she had better be a good teacher!"

Gisharel sighs in relief and nods to the Dreamer. The woman runs to Feynriel and ethereal hands reach out to his head. The moment her fingertips touch him they both disappear.

"I'm sorry Hawke; it appears your dream has been hijacked."

In the next few moments Hawke feels the truth of the Keeper's words, the walls from her usual dream are built brick by brick around them with incredible speed before they disappear brick by brick once again. The library flickers in and out of existent and they see books flying around inside each time it appears. The sky turns different colours as wind starts blowing, clouds form and rain falls before they clear again and brilliant sunshine lights up the area. The trees around the edges run through the cycle of seasons more and more rapidly before they return to their original state. For a few moments, Gisharel flickers in and out of the dream. Then everything is still and then the two figures reappear. The Dreamer removes her fingertips from the temples of Feynriel's head, both of them grinning at each other.

The blue figure turns to Hawke, "The child will be safe until you reach him now." She turns to face Gisharel, the smile fading and her features saddening, "I am sorry child, but more is required of you. Six of your children must travel with this one, it is not known if they will return. This will be hard for your Clan, but it must be done, this is the help freely given. The Wavemaker will know of their need when the time comes." She waves her hand and Gisharel vanishes before she has the chance to respond to her words.

Fenris scowls as she looks at him, "Ah, the slave. Not quite free yet, but almost there." She turns and ignores the glare he gives her as well the hand that starts to reach for his sword. Feynriel bows deeply at her as she gives her last words to him, "No need for that frippery! Do what you must, but come here when you are done, there is more you need to learn." And with that she faded away, a few lingering blue tendrils left in her wake.

Feynriel bounds over to them, his joy apparent, "Hawke I cannot tell you how amazing that was! She has taught me more in a few hours than my master has taught me in all the years I have been with him!"

"A few hours Feynriel? You were only with her for a few minutes! And how come she can talk our language now when she couldn't before?"

"Time runs differently in dreams Hawke. Dreams within dreams, a useful tool, one she will teach me later. Ah, apologies if your dream went a bit odd, I am afraid I tried out a few things using it. The language thing? Oh that was awful, it was like she rummaged through my head looking for words, it worked though."

"So you plan to come here when we leave Minrathous?"

Feynriel nodded, "I do. You should think about it yourself Hawke. Where you are is the safest place in Thedas. There are magical walls round it, stretching far beyond the trees, demons cannot enter. It may be why your mind found it before. I should go, I'll be able to make my master think I am using blood magic and he might have a nasty surprise, I can break through the walls of his dreams now. Good luck Hawke, I'll come to your dream again when you reach Minrathous." And with that he walked to the trees and left.

"What is it with the fortune-tellers Hawke? They never forget the slave thing and always tell me I am still not free. I hate them, if we meet any more tell them to just shut up and say nothing!"

"I'll make sure to tell them. Now where were we before we were interrupted?"

Fenris' dream kiss is just as warm and lingering as it is in reality. Reassuring her that whatever shocks and revelations there are in his life, his love for her is unchanged.

Dawn brings them up from the underground, the sun bright in a clear blue sky, its heat quickly clearing the small low-lying patches of fog. The White Spire stands dominant in the landscape, a skirt of trees reaching far up its sides until they peter out to snow covered ridges of rock. Hawke studies the surroundings, marvelling at how close it matches her dream. It is a beautiful place, isolated and hidden. A perfect place for a one time Champion to live out her days and raise a family safe from the dangers of the wider world. If she was able to return.

Looking at Gisharel, Hawke realised how selfish she might be thinking of her own family. The Keeper had been ordered to send six of her own people's children with them. Hawke could not say she was happy herself at the thought of more children travelling with them. For Alano it was the safest option, it was not for these children. It would have helped if the ghost had been clearer about the purpose of this, but to take six elven children to Minrathous was downright dangerous. Isabella was going to have a screaming fit and likely send them straight back, refusing to have them on board.

Varania was horrified at what the ghost had told them to do and wasted no time in advising Gisharel to ignore what had been asked of her. Annarrion begged the Keeper not to put more families through what he had been through. Fenris kept his own counsel, Hawke knew he thought it reckless and irresponsible, but agreed to wait; sure that Isabella would be the one to stop this ridiculousness. Hawke hoped herself that Isabella would do just that, she could not see how risking the lives of these children could lead to anything other than sadness and more grief for the Dalish.

Gisharel looked round at all the disapproving faces. "This must be done. The Dalish are slowly dying. It was clear at the last Arlathvhen that our numbers are diminishing. The elves in the cities have the same problem, forced to live in poverty, housing conditions that are appalling and open to disease with no healers. I have to believe that doing this will mean our survival; I have to believe the wisdom of that ancient elf. I do not do this lightly, my heart is heavy. I may be sending them to their deaths, the meaning of which I may never live to see. I put my faith in this human that she will do all she can to bring them back to us."

Hawke swallows, "You would trust me that much? I told you what happened with Marathari and Merrill. I do not always make the best decisions! You would make me responsible for your children!"

"I know what happened at Sundermount Hawke, I knew before you told me. You took responsibility for what happened there when you did not need to. Many elves would have died had you not. I can think of no one better to do this."

"But we don't even know why we're doing this!"

"I do. I will risk six lives if it means thousands may live."

There could be no further argument. Gisharel could not be swayed, not by them, the only hope was Isabella.

The camp was not far from the clearing and did not take them too far out of the way of the return route to the cove. Trix was delighted at seeing the colourful aravels and fascinated with the Dalish way of life, Alano became shy, hiding behind Varania's skirts and peeping out at the strangers. As expected, the elves were less than pleased at seeing two humans in the company of their Keeper and were open in letting them know their displeasure. Hawke wondered how much worse their hostility would become once they knew what their Keeper planned.

Annarrion invited them to his aravel while they waited. They sat outside while Annarrion went inside to come out moments later.

"This is for you my daughter," he said unwrapping the cloth from the most beautifully carved staff Hawke had ever seen. Wooden leaves of ivy travelled round and round the stave before reaching the top where four larger leaves cupped and wrapped themselves round a flawless green emerald. The light of the sun caught in the gemstone sending out rays of startling green light. "I made this for your mother when she became First. She used it seldom, stating it was fit only for a Keeper. She never gave it a name, but after she was taken I called it 'Carrillion's Regret' I felt sure if she had taken it with her that day she would never have been captured."

Varania looked at the staff, tears filling her eyes, "Mother never used her magic. Not that I am aware of. I expect she was afraid of what would happen if they ever discovered she could. This is beautiful; I will use it with pride. Thank you."

He then turned to Fenris, unwrapping the other cloth bound item he had brought out. This time the sun glinted off the highly polished and sharpened steel blade.

"A city elf named Colvin came to our camp and taught me the nature of smithing in steel. I made this blade once I had mastered the craft and I doubt you will find one finer. All my grief was poured into this blade, I lost count of how many times I folded the metal, each fold I imagined it slicing through those who had destroyed my life. I called it 'Fen Mi', The Wolf Blade, little knowing the significance that would have. Wolves mate for life and fight to the death for their cubs, I made this blade hoping to get the chance once more to do just that. However, it has turned out that my wolf cub is the one who found the vengeance that was lost to me. This is yours, by right and by deed."

Fenris lifts the blade, his eyes dilating as he takes in the length, strength and weight of it. "It is truly a masterpiece. I will wield this blade in memory of all those taken by the Tevinter Imperium. I did not know you were a smith. When we return, I would wish that you teach me this skill, my Father."

"Gladly, my Son."

Lastly, Annarrion comes to Hawke and takes her hands in his, "Alas I have no gift for you, yet you have brought me the greatest gift of all. Ask. What would you wish of me? If it is in my power to give it I will do so."

Her initial instinct is tell him she wishes nothing and although this would be polite, she knows the man would quite likely be offended, and then an idea strikes her,

"Fenris, when we return, how about we stay?"

Fenris gives her the little smile he reserves only for her, "I would like that very much."

"Then I would like a home Annarrion."

The elf pats her hand and nods. Varania comes to stand beside them and pulls out a small box. Fenris smiles as he recognises it, glad that his sister has thought of this.

"This has been with me since mother died. I wish we did not have to leave now, but until we return, I would ask that you have it."

Fenris watches his father open the box and do just as he had when Varania had first shown it to him. The man cannot talk, overwhelmed by emotion, his tears fall as he strokes the two small plaits of baby hair.

The sound of keening begins in the camp and they know that Gisharel is gathering the children. Hawke's heart sinks. Why couldn't she be dissuaded from this? Whatever is in store for elves, there must be another way to help them. This does not feel right.

Gisharel walks towards them, her face grim but determined. "They are saying goodbye. There are six as instructed. The Dreamer did not mention that I could not send others, so two of the hunters will accompany them. Please go as soon as they are ready."

"You don't need to do this." Hawke pleads with her one last time.

"I know child, but I will. Do what you can to bring them back."

The Keeper turns her back on them and walks away, her shoulders slumped. One by one the elven children make their way towards them, their eyes red and their fear clear to see. The two hunters stand beside them, their faces unreadable, but Hawke knows their thoughts are not friendly. They say their goodbyes to Annarrion and set off once more heading back to the ships.

"They're back!" Argo bursts into the room where Isabella and Damien are stood over a table strewn with maps, "'An they brung some kids with 'em!" All three rush outside and Argo points to the edge of the trees where a globe of light shines in the darkness, illuminating the party. All the adults hold an elven child in their arms, apart from Fenris who has both an elven child and Alano in each of his. Isabella can see a look of blessed relief on Hawke's face as she walks towards her. Others come out of buildings until a fair sized crowd surrounds them. All curious to hear this tale.

"Thank the Maker you're here Isabella. Just say the word and we will take them back. There is just this Dalish Keeper who insisted we bring them because she thinks we will need them. All I need is for you to say we don't."

"I'm sorry Hawke, the old witch is right. We do need them and you're not going to like it."


	14. Chapter 14

After Kirkwall – 14

"So Isabella, tell me why we need these children and it had better be damned good, otherwise I'm taking them back in the morning and to hell with blue ghosts and stubborn Keepers."

Isabella decides not to ask about ghosts and keepers, that tale can wait. Hawke had delivered the answer to a problem she and Damian had been wrestling with since she had gone into the forest with the others. With the crews busy stocking the ships up with fresh water and carrying out minor repairs, all the captains of the ships had taken this opportunity to discuss this last leg of their journey before they entered the waters of the Tevinter Imperium. Isabella had even invited Charade along, according her respect if not forgiveness.

The meeting had gone surprisingly well, they had agreed on ship formation which accounted for Charade's lack of experience, but would not slow them down. They agreed on what each ship was to do should Qunari sails be sighted. Charade had offered the services of Cavall and Lipiz to aid with communication. They had studied the maps and noted all the hiding spots, balanced crew members and redistributed cargo. Isabella had been impressed with the way Charade had conducted herself, she had listened well to all the advice given her, asked pertinent questions and accepted the demands placed on her. Though she didn't join in too much with the drinking and ribald banter that went along with it, Isabella felt that wasn't too big a fault with a new Captain and Argo had taken a shine to her which was always a good sign. Even Barzal's gruffness had lost its edge by the time they were done.

The thing they had not been able to agree on was what to do when they got to Minrathous. Not because any of them disagreed, they just could not think of a plan to get everything done that they were going to do when they got there. Isabella and Damian continued to gnaw away at it long after the others had left. They had the small seed of a plan when Hawke had returned and when Isabella saw her, the seed had grown and blossomed.

"There is no other way Hawke. Damian and I have been trying to figure this out for the last few days and there is no better way. We were going to suggest you buy some elven slaves at Qarinus, but there is no guarantee there will be any elven children up for sale. When you walked through those trees with those kids, I thought you had been somehow been listening in to our conversations and come up with a solution as you always do."

Hawke is slumped on the chair, her hands covering her head. How can this be happening? She was sure Isabella would laugh at her or bawl her out for bringing those children all the way from the forest, insisting she turn tail immediately and take them back giving her the excuse she needed to tell Gisharel, "Sorry about that, no can do. Isabella says no so you can just return them to their mummies and daddies." Fenris glowers at Isabella and Damian, clearly unhappy at them not doing what he expected of them.

"Yes, please explain how taking children away from their home is going to help us?" Hawke asks, sure that Isabella's plan is bound to be flawed, she had never come up with a plan that Hawke hadn't torn to shreds and sewn back together without the glaring loopholes.

Isabella sits down opposite Hawke at the table, "You need an 'in'. The first thing we need to do when we get to Minrathous is flush Lucarius out. We know he buys elven children and we have likely stopped any slave ship that was on its way there, he will be desperate for them and you will be the only one to have them for sale."

"You would turn me into a slaver Isabella. Pretending to be a magister in Antiva was bad enough, now you want me to sell people!" Hawke wails.

"Oh come on Hawke! You wouldn't be a real slaver. If, as we suspect, he is Danarius' son then almost everything we're travelling to Minrathous for is in that estate. All you have to do is get him to invite the sexy, rich, new mage about town to his estate for the evening. Surely chatting over dinner will give him the chance to explain why he needs these slaves more than you do. Once you are in, while you distract him, the rest of us can go over the place, get out the slaves and papers we came to get and leave. The only thing left to do is grab hold of Feynriel and get the hell out of Minrathous. Simple. The kids won't even need to leave the ship!"

"If they don't need to leave the ship why do we need to take them at all?"

"Because they need to be seen! Proof that the rogue mage who has come to Minrathous is ready to be a kick-ass Magister, slaves and all! Lucarius won't be able to resist you!"

"And you agree that this is a good plan?" Hawke asks Damian.

The big man stands with his arms folded, "its simple, the best plans always are, less chance of things going wrong.

"What about Barzal's sisters."

"Barzal's been hunting them for years, if they are in Minrathous he'll find them himself, it is doubtful he'll need our help."

"What ship are the children going to be staying on?"

"Your cousin's of course, it still looks like a slave ship, Argo has just made is seaworthy is all. It's still got the cage!"

"They are not sailing to Minrathous in a cage Isabella!" Hawke screams.

"Don't be stupid, Hawke. They will only go in the cage when we get there, it's just for show."

"And can you be sure we'll get them there in one piece? Your storm sense isn't tingling is it?"

"That's why the maps are out. Damian and I have been trying to figure out the safest and fastest way of getting all of us there safely. We'll hug the coastline as much as we can, we've identified several points we can scoot into and hide if any other sails come into view. My storm sense is not tingling right now, but I promise, if I feel anything we'll stay out of the way."

"What about getting away?" Fenris asks, "The port at Minrathous is not just for trading, many of their warships are based there and they will give chase. I don't give much for our chances if they come after us."

Isabella gives him a malicious grin, "Oh my lanky friend that is the delicious part. Barzal knows a man whose cousin knows another man who...oh dammit! He can get a hold of the explosives they used in Amaranthine. Cavall and Lipiz are going to plant the explosives on the ships and at the right moment...BOOM! They anticipate inviting all their friends and family to the party, and they plan for a good old sing-song, unfortunately we will not be able to attend. The buffet will not be to our taste."

Hawke is silent, mulling over all the Isabella has said, before she turns to Fenris, "For once it seems like Isabella has come up with a half-way decent plan, can you find any flaws?"

"Many." He growls, "But none that are large enough that we can't iron out details on the way. I wish there were. Damian is right, keeping it simple means that it can easily be adapted if need be."

Resigned to the fact that the children are coming with them after all, Hawke stands, "I'll get our stuff and move to Charade's ship right way."

"Ah...no you won't." Isabella stops her, "Don't go near them, the more you are around those kids the more you will get to know them and the more you will care about them. This will be much easier for you to do if you don't know them. It will be hard enough when Alano joins them."

"Alano will be joining them?"

"Hawke, it won't look right if you have one obviously pampered little elf following you around when all the rest are caged up. Varania and Orana can get by as they are, a couple of elves as personal attendants will just help to make you look the part. It's what to do about your husband here that we can't decide upon."

"And just what can't you decide to do about me?" Fenris asks, looking as if he is ready to bite off Isabella's head and spit out the parts that taste a little too much of human that is going too far.

"Fenris, if you are seen with Hawke you will be like a great sign saying, 'Hey, come over here and meet the mage who bumped off Danarius!' I don't believe any magisters will have forgotten his disobedient bodyguard or what he looks like. We can't decide if that will be to our advantage or not."

Fenris' hands go into fists as he realises that Isabella is right. Protesting that Danarius died by his hand and not Hawke's is pointless. They will have to think this through carefully and decide whether he will be an asset or a liability. Until they know more he knows the latter is most likely.

* * *

><p>The morning finds the cove a hive of activity as the ships prepare to set sail once again. Hawke seeks out Charade desperately seeking her reassurance that the children will be well looked after. She is struck by the changes in her when she finds her with Cavall, waiting for the skiff to take her and the last of her crew back to her ship. Gone is the smile that was quick to come to her face, gone is the giggle as she prepared to share some ship gossip she had heard, gone is the girl who acted without thought to the consequences of what she did. She looks stern and determined, completely in command of herself and her crew. The humorous sparkle that used to light her eyes has changed to a steely-eyed stare that watches over her crew, missing nothing. She still looks pleased to see her when she approaches, but the warmth has left her, no unnecessary familial exchanges of greetings leave her mouth.<p>

"What can I do for you cousin?"

"Just wanted to check on the arrangements you have made for the children."

"They will be fine; you have no need to worry. Varania is staying with them, she seems to have a way with them and they seem to like her. The hunters with them are uneasy about travelling by sea, but I've told them they can practice their archery if they help out with some ship's chores and that seems to have settled them a little. Argo helped to get the ship more comfortable. He was worried that if we encountered any more slavers they might recognise it and changed it enough that they won't immediately be on to us. The children will sleep comfortably, eat well and Varania will keep them busy. They will come to no harm. I will make sure of that."

Charade's tone leaves Hawke in no doubt that she means what she says, even if that potential harmer should be Hawke herself. Cavall's smile holds more warmth and genuine pleasure, "Captain Charade is correct," his grin stretches from ear to ear, and "She has charged Lipiz and me with the task of sea guards! We will catch many fish so the little ones can eat and we will catch them if they should fall in the water. We have promised not to eat them."

Hawke feels herself caught in his infectious optimism and is reassured that her cousin has done all she can to keep the children safe, but the sadness lingers at the changes in her. Perhaps she was wrong to let her chase down those slavers, she should have been more patient, and another opportunity to thwart them would have come. The price of stopping them may have been too great for Charade. Gamlen would barely recognise his daughter if he met her now.

* * *

><p>The ships sail on, quickly falling into the new routines. The coast of the Arlathan Forest slides by revealing the vast amount of land it covers. The weather stays fine with only a few squalls that cause little concern and do little more than dampen their clothes. Not until they near the port at Qarinus do they catch sight of the sails of other ships. Most of them trading ships, but one gives them their first look at an Imperium warship. Elegant and deadly, Isabella shudders as it speeds by them. Three rows of oars all moving in perfect harmony make it glide past them in the water at a rate they could not hope to achieve even with all the sails out and a good wind at their back. The lead lined reinforced hull gave them all pause, the warship would slice through their ship like a knife through butter if it caught them side on; they would not stand a chance. Slicing through them was not the only option for this galley, Isabella pointed out the huge crossbow on the bow. Akin to the ballistae used back in Ferelden, it could punch holes in the sides of ships that would have sailors scrambling to stop water entering their lungs before they could think to scramble for swords. The need for Barzal's contact became abundantly clear; the chances of any of them getting out of Minrathous alive if even one of those things came after them were decidedly poor. Hawke couldn't help but wonder what the Qunari warships were like that they could be a match for them. The galley passed them by, on the lookout for Qunari and not wasting its time with trading vessels.<p>

The port at Qarinus differed little from Kont-Arr despite it being under the auspices of the Empire rather than the Qun. Argo's report from his scouting of the port for information told them little that they did not already know. The slave trade had dipped amidst rumours of vengeful spirits coming for the ships and taking them to the Fade, so there would be no slave market for a while. Word of the war between Templars and mages had reached Tevinter, but the Qarinians paid it no mind as it had had no effect on them. If the Seere witches had passed through the port they had left no sign. Barzal used the time it took to unload cargo to try and find some clue of his sisters' whereabouts, but found nothing.

They moved on quickly, not wishing to keep the elf children below deck and out of sight any longer than necessary. The atmosphere on all the ships became tense as they rounded the Eyes of Nocen in the Ventosus Straits. Barzal takes his ship south and splits from them, heading towards Carastes, Nermenium, Vyrantium and Marnus Pell in his search for his sisters, assuring them he will make haste and rejoin them in Minrathous. Isabella doubled the watch, fearing the sight of Qunari sails on the horizon. The tension only rises as they enter the Nocen Sea and head towards Minrathous. To head straight across is the fastest and shortest route, but it takes them perilously close to the southern tip of the Island of Seheron.

When Hamahakis spotted six Imperial warships heading straight towards them, they thought their mad dash across the Nocen Sea to Minrathous had ended before it got started. The galleys moved too fast for them to consider escaping from them, they could do nothing but wait as they approached and slowed to come alongside each of the ships. Hawke watched as ropes were thrown and ships and galleys were pulled together. On each of the ships a single soldier made his way across to board.

Looking in the holes the oars came through Hawke could just see the rows and rows of oarsmen, most of them looked like slaves from the tattered rags they wore, but there was one at the end of each oar who could only be an imperial soldier. More soldiers stood to attention in rows on the deck, yet more stood with bows drawn all aimed at the sailors on the deck. Soldiers and slaves did not utter a sound as the heavily armed man boarded the Song of the Spellweaver and was greeted by Isabella.

Hawke could only watch and hold her breath as the soldier advised Isabella that he was required to inspect the cargo and confirm their status as a trading vessel. Isabella switched her hip swaying up to full throttle as he followed her below deck, but the man gave no indication that it had any effect on him. Looking out to the other ships Hawke could see the same drama being played out on each of them. Anxiety began to build in her, anxiety she could see building in the rest of the crew, each of them had stopped what they were doing to watch as the ship was inspected. As she stood she felt the wisp of magic reach her. Varania's fear must be great if she was willing to risk sending it out. She could only stand and try to keep her features impassive and wait for Isabella and the soldier to come back on deck. She wondered if any of the soldiers were like Templars and could detect the magic, but a quick glance over at those standing on the deck of the Imperial galley told her that if they could they were paying it no heed.

It felt like an eternity before Isabella's head appeared at the stairs. Her gentle sashaying still there and the soldier's impassive face indicating it still had no impact on him. He moved to the rail and started making hand gestures at his counterparts on the other ships. Isabella gave her a slight shake of the head, enough to let her know that she could feel the magic also and warning her not to use it. The hand waving stopped and the soldier returned to stand in front of Isabella,

"We will escort you to Minrathous." Was all he said before returning to his vessel and the ropes were untied.

Isabella directed everyone to return to their tasks.

"I think they like us." Isabella whispered as she passed Hawke.

"Do we want them to like us?"

"Well, disliking us would mean they would fight us or capture us, not something we want them to do right now. Besides, what better way to arrive at Minrathous than with a full military escort? If the Qunari appear, they can deal with them and leave our butts out of it." Isabella giggles, "This is perfect, and the Tevinter Imperium won't have seen anything like it! A rogue mage arriving with her own fleet, her own slaves and money to burn. They can't help but sit up and take notice."

Hawke frowns, "I thought the idea was to sneak in and sneak out as quickly as possible."

"Oh do not fret Hawke, there will be plenty of sneaking, but that's my job. Your job is to distract them so much that I can do my sneaking in peace."

"You're planning to do more than just rescue a few slaves aren't you?" she accuses.

"Of course! You don't think I'm going to pass up the chance of collecting a few choice items. One last fling before I become a fully paid up law-abiding member of society!"

"Isabella, I swear if you do anything that puts the lives of those children at risk...remember what happened with the Qunari."

"Did you have to remind me of my one and only failure? Hawke you have a terrible way of taking the fun out of things." Isabella pouts at her and struts off whistling happily.

* * *

><p>The Minrathous skyline looked majestic when seen from the sea. The city sprawled across the land, along the coastline and deep inland. The architecture was similar to that of Kirkwall, but on a much larger scale. The four towers of the Circle of Magi dominated the city rising high above all other buildings. It was not until the ships drew closer that it became evident that the city's grandeur had long gone. There were few buildings that did not show crumbling brickwork, pillars rose with nothing to hold up, great statues had lost heads, arms and legs, carvings had corroded to the extent that all detail was lost. Great clouds of dust swirled in the slight breeze that came in from the sea adding to the pall of polluted air that hung low over the city. All shades of beige and gray there is not a glimpse of green until far out to the edges where the grand estates of the magister lords lie. The stench that hit them on nearing the port was fouler than any they had encountered anywhere. Great stone walls stretched far out into the sea creating several man made harbours, each with stone berths, most of which were empty.<p>

All the warships split away from them bar one which guided them into one of the harbours before turning and leaving again. The quay swarmed with ragged men who scampered to grab ropes and assist the ships in docking, all while a fat balding man roared at them berating them for being too slow.

"They seem very...helpful." Hawke observed.

"Look around, more than half the berths are empty." Isabella pointed out, "Trade in Minrathous is poor, and it has been declining for years. I expect that's why we had our escort, anything to 'encourage' ships to come here. I must admit though, I didn't realise it had got this bad."

"Are all those men slaves?"

"Oh no, but they might as well be for the pitiful pay they get. The fat, screaming man is the harbour master; the last time I was here I would have had to slip him a bag full of coin to get one of the good berths. This time it looks as if he'll be paying me to stay."

Hawke looks out at the port and the thin men scurrying about. Minrathous is so much less than she thought it would be. It was supposed to be the jewel in the crown of the Tevinter Imperium, a place where mages lived free from the yolk of the Chantry, where grand Magister Lords lived in splendour and opulence. Instead it was a filthy and dirty and falling to pieces.

"I'm going below to join Fenris." Said Hawke, feeling disappointed that after taking so long to get to this place the thing she wanted most in the world right now was to leave.

"I'll get the others, we'll meet you there. Let's get this done and get out of here."

Fenris had stayed out of sight below deck as much as he could when their escort had appeared. Only when it was dark had he come up on deck. As they still had not agreed on his role he thought it wise to keep away from the watchful eyes of the Tevinter soldiers. He and a few others of the crew had cleared an area in the cargo hold, big enough that they could all continue practicing their fighting skills without fear of the soldiers questioning why sailors would wish to do so. Hawke watched him working through the stances. Graceful and fluid in his movements, the months at sea had done nothing to lessen his ability. His father's sword flashed and hissed at it moved through the air, as if it was the only sword Fenris had ever held in his hands. She found it soothing to watch him, easing the tension and worry that had built up inside her. She was almost sorry when he noticed her standing at the side watching him and the sword lowered.

"Is everything all right Hawke?" he asked.

"Why would someone want to be a Magister Lord? This city is a dump. Being free to use magic without fear of the repercussions is quite an attractive prospect, but in a place like this it means nothing. What do they get? Power in a land that has been bled dry. Power over people who don't care who it is that rules over them. It doesn't make sense."

A faint smile tugs at the edges of Fenris' mouth, glad to hear her say that the idea of being a magister holds no appeal, "For magisters it is a game, their only thought to win the game and defeat the other contestants. Power over land or people is not what drives them. It is the power they can hold over each other. Anyone not playing the game can only huddle in corners and hope to escape the destruction that follows in the wake of their participation."

"I'm going to have to join in this game for a time, aren't I?"

"It would seem so."

He sheaths his sword and walks over to put his hand on the now obvious swell of her stomach, "Were it not for them, I think I would relish what we are about to do. Exacting a small revenge on the Imperium, upsetting their way of life, ensuring that what was done to Hamahakis and I could not be done again, it would please me. Salve those small pockets of hate I still harbour. But now...they change everything."

His hand comes up to cup her cheek, his green eyes seeming to search deep into her soul, "I can't protect you or our children holed up in this ship. I will be to you as I was to Danarius, only this time I am slave to my own heart and no master."

* * *

><p>Hawke tugged at the collar of the robes Varania had given her. The best Orlesian silk they might be, but they still irritated her. A beautiful ice blue colour with an iridescent sheen that stood out against the brown and sand shades of Minrathous, its folds wrapped round her emphasising her curves yet hiding the swell of her stomach, no one had thought it wise to broadcast the sign of her impending motherhood. The silk does little to stop the effects of the cloying and uncomfortable heat of the city.<p>

"Stop fidgeting." Varania whispers, "You are supposed to be serene and above earthly discomforts."

"And you are supposed to be a slave hand maiden that doesn't speak unless spoken to." Hawke whispers back.

"Be quiet both of you!" Fenris snaps at them, "We're almost there." Seeing the Minrathous port once more had put him on edge. The last time he had seen it was when he left with Danarius to head for Seheron, Danarius on some mission to try and broker a deal with the Fog Warriors to join forces and wage war on the Qunari. That had gone well, for him at least, for the Imperium it was just another failed attempt at retaking the island. Now he had returned, no longer a slave, free of the mental shackles placed on him, yet why did he feel that none of that mattered?

He had been the one to make the decision of what was to be done with him. He was not going to leave Hawke's side and that was that, if he was recognised that would only be to the good of Hawke's stature. Let the Magisters know that the slave who had been bodyguard to Danarius had a new Mistress, one who had been able to control the wayward slave where Danarius had not. He doubted any of them cared enough to seek vengeance for his old Master's death; the only one who was likely to do so was Lucarius, the one they wanted to catch up with them anyway.

The doors of the Minrathous Chantry loomed large in front of them. Black and imposing at the top of a long flight of sandstone stairs, they were the endpoint of this first trip out into the city. It was Harral who recommended they visit here first. It seemed Minrathous was where First Enchanter Santiago had planned to go on leaving Antiva City. He had made Harral read every book available on Tevinter Magisters, making him more of an authority on all matters of Magistry than either Fenris or Varania. Isabella had told her firmly to get off the ship and go and get seen in Minrathous, if Harral thought the Tevinter Chantry was a good place to head for, then that was fine by her, so long as it resulted in flushing out this Lucarius.

Whilst this Chantry did not control what mages did, they oversaw all their actions. The purpose of Templars in the Imperium was not to capture and control mages; they used their abilities to stop magic users only from hurting each other. Mages could fire off a few fireballs in the street and turn the general populace to a crisp all they wanted, but fire one at another magic user and the Templars stopped them, apparently very politely suggesting they report to the Chantry who would arrange for the disagreement to continue in a more appropriate setting. The priests of the Chantry did not play the game of magisters, but they made sure the rules of the game were adhered to.

The journey from the docks to the gates of the Chantry had been a lesson in the social structure of Minrathous. The surprise had been that slaves were not at the bottom of it. The bottom rung of the social ladder was reserved for the free unwashed masses, dressed in rags and left to starve to death unless they could scrape a few coin together for a crust of bread at the end of each day. They had been swarmed by them on first leaving the ship, begging for work, coin and food, they had clamoured around them crawling on their knees with their hands stretched out. Elves, humans and even a couple of dwarves were among them. A few had held out babies offering to exchange them for a single coin. It had only stopped when Fenris had pulled out his sword and told Hawke to send out a few sparks of magic. The crowd moved back once the first spark flashed on the ground at her feet. The warning of what would happen should they continue to hinder her progress made clear. Hawke took heed of the effect the spark had and quickly created a ball of light with sparks leaping out of it and send it to float a few feet in front of them as they progressed. Like a sign that proclaimed her ability the sphere worked and no more peasants tried to make their way towards her and beg. It felt very odd to use her magic so publicly, but no one gasped or screamed or called for Templars.

Away from the docks, the numbers of beggars dwindled, but there were no fewer people. Those who were slaves quickly became easy to tell; all wore simple tabards and moved quickly about their tasks. Those who were neither slave nor beggar distinguishable by the slightly better condition of the clothes they wore. These were the people who had found work of some form and moved about almost as quickly as the slaves, all of them avoiding the three with the sparking ball in front of them. The next rung up was the traders and shopkeepers they saw when they reached a large open square. These people were not so intimidated by the ball and beckoned to Hawke to view and sample their wares. Hawke could sense the presence of other mages and quickly identified what were obviously refugees from other parts of Thedas. Treated with courtesy by the shop holders, their place in the social hierarchy appeared to be on a level with the shopkeepers as they stood casting spells, advertising their magical skills and offering them up for sale. The fawning that was shown towards her let her know that her own place was seen as the next rung up. Having slaves at your back and wearing fancy robes told of a better class of mage. The quick skips of bodies clearing a path for the palanquin that arrived told of the requirements for the next step up. Carried by four heavily armed men, the elaborately carved and decorated box moved towards one of the stalls. The stall holder came from behind his table to kneel at its side, his head lowered and his hands clasped in front of him, an elegant hand reached through the curtain at the side of the box and the humbled man nodded before the box lifted once more and moved on. Hawke assumed the next level was Magister, but she never saw how they presented themselves as none were to be seen. Perhaps it was beneath them to be seen wandering amongst the rank and file in the streets of the city, or perhaps they had trouble coping with the smells, that she could appreciate wholeheartedly, why wander about in this if you didn't have to?

Beyond the square more of the dregs of Minrathous society became evident again. The depths of their hopeless situation became clear as two were seen dragging a body from the side of the street. Hawke tried not to retch as she overheard them muttering about which parts would make the best eating.

At last they had reached the doors to the Chantry. Walking up the stairs Hawke could see the layer of dust and filth her robes had acquired on their walk through the centre of the city. The lovely iridescence no longer apparent and the ice blue had turned decidedly duller and looked greyer than any shade of blue. The irritation at her collar had not been due to the silk, but at all the small particles of grit that had caught between it and her skin. How much more dirty could she get on the way back to the ship?

Once through the doors, Hawke immediately felt the change. The air was cool; the stench of the city hadn't followed them in. Inside, the Chantry was not unlike that in Kirkwall, just on a larger scale. The statue of Andraste still reached high up into the ceiling space at the altar, but she was flanked by other statues whose identity was unknown to her. The banners still hung on the walls and the candles still burned. The only immediate apparent difference was the number of men dressed in priests' robes and that the robes instead of being the traditional orange colours she was familiar with, were a deep blood red with a violet sunburst.

A young priest came rushing towards them, "No magic in the Argent Spire! Get rid of that thing or leave!" He shouted. The sphere winked out of existence quickly as Hawke saw many other faces turn angrily towards them.

"What do you want?" the priest demanded, his arms folded and scowling at Hawke. His eyes had barely glanced at Fenris and Varania.

"Some information would be useful." Hawke says tentatively, "I've just arrived in the city and it was suggested I come here first."

"Damn, another refugee. You don't look much like one." He says wrinkling his nose at her. "Strange that you would come here first, most of your lot go straight to the Circle." He looks her up and down and gives the two elves a more searching glance. "Oh I see...not just looking for shelter and a nice cup of tea are you? You want more! Fancy yourself as a magister do you? Well, well, well." He gives a shake of his head and then looks at Hawke indulgently.

"Come with me and I'll explain a few things. You two stay where you are."

He leads her over to an alcove and begins by poking her in the chest, "Let's get something straight right away. Walking around with a couple of slaves at your back and dressing like one does not make you a magister! I doubt your magical skills are even close to what is required for the show you are putting on!"

The finger stops jabbing and the priest puts his hands on his hips and starts speaking at her as a parent would to a child that has disappointed them, "Before you can become a magister you need training, before you can get training you need a magister to sponsor you. To get a magister to sponsor you, you need to go to the Circle. Under normal circumstances in the Circle a few magisters might look you over and if you are very, very lucky, one might decide to take you on, however there is an alternative at present."

A malicious grin appeared on the priest's face,

"The Divine has declared a Grand Tournament. Sign yourself up and if you are any good, which I doubt, then a sponsor will pick you up. A much faster process than sitting about the Circle for years."

"What if I'm not any good?"

"Why my dear refugee mage, you will be dead." His mouth twists into a crooked smile. Clearly this man relished the thought of more than just her death.

Hawke remembered Fenris had mentioned games that mages played in Minrathous against each other; he had said they were always to the death. Feynriel had also said there were to be games; this must be what he was talking about. Putting her dislike of this priest to one side she decides to turn on some charm. She had come here for information and this weasel of a man might be willing to give her it with just the right amount of fawning.

Hawke hopes it is a winning smile that she puts on her face and turns to him.

"You are so astute, Revered Father, is it?" the priest, gives a small blush, responding eagerly to Hawke's sudden change of tack and becoming more humble when he admits to being a simple brother of the Chantry.

"It is clear to me that I have been misinformed as to how things work in this city. It is obvious that your knowledge far surpasses all that I have been told thus far. I should tell you that I am not without considerable magical skill but as you have so rightly surmised, my political acumen is sadly lacking. I would ask at the circle as you advise, but I would think that someone independent of the circle, such as yourself, would provide me with a far less biased view of things. Is that not so?"

The priest is undone. Hawke knows she has managed just the right amount of fawning as the man preens himself before launching into revealing all he knows of political life in Minrathous. Hawke listens as he explains how it is now the Divine who is now the hand of power in Minrathous, a powerful magister Lord who rose through the highest echelons and now presides over the Imperium, dictating the laws over all who come under its auspices. The Archon and the Senate now puppets who dance to his tune. The priest turns out to be a mine of side information as he peppers his talk with gossip, revealing the paranoid nature of the Divine and his banning of the use of magic in the Chantry by all but himself. The arrival of so many foreign mages in the city has provided the opportunity of a diversion from the magister scheming on how to overthrow the Divine. He has overheard conversations where the Divine has discussed with the Revered Fathers the possibility of utilising these mages as a vanguard in a fresh assault against either the Qunari or in a bid to retake lands in the south and expanding the Empire once again.

The Grand Tournament is the first step in the Divine's plans to return Tevinter to its former glory. Magister's love these games, but it has been some time since there has been any where mage fights mage over their differences. The priest reveals how the Divine is worried that the magisters have stopped fighting amongst themselves to gather and plot against him. These games are meant to distract them from any rebellious activities and start the process of uniting them in the pursuit of greater goals. These refugee mages are weak, averse to the use of blood magic or weapons. The games will weed out the weakest, force those with potential to use their magic just to survive by any means. It is as he is explaining the Divine's intention that the magister lords will train those mages successful in the games in battle prowess that Hawke catches sight of a black robed man standing at the gallery of the altar apparently staring at Fenris. Hawke senses the aura of the wisps of magic that circle and flow around the man, not exactly malevolent but she feels the currently dormant potential of it and shudders at the thought that it might ever be directed at her. The priest follows her line of sight,

"You should be honoured, few set eyes on the Divine himself." Hawke wonders if she could truly be said to have set eyes on him, his black hood is pulled so far forward that the features of his face are hidden inside and the black robes so voluminous that there is no hint of the contours of his frame. Even his hands are gloved in black; it is small wonder to her that the Chantry elsewhere call him the Black Divine. As the blank hole of the hood continues to focus on Fenris, Hawke wonders at the wisdom of having him on display like this. His idea that he should act as an advert to her magical abilities seems dangerous now that it has caught the attention of the foremost magister in Minrathous. It is time for them to leave. The priest has told her more than enough to enable her dinner conversation to sparkle and distract and give Isabella and company the time to do as much sneaking as they could wish for.

The priest coughs, suddenly woken to the fact that he has probably said too much. Hawke thanks him and moves towards the Chantry door, returning to the foul smells and cloying heat of Minrathous now more appealing than the sense of quiet menace that permeates the Argent Spire.

* * *

><p>Orana sat on the yard of the mizzen mast, her feet dangling over the empty space below her, one arm clutched around the mast to keep her steady and safe from falling to the deck below. Her knuckles white and her nails sunk into the wood betraying the roiling anxiety inside her. She had climbed up as soon as it was dark, looking out over the port and the city beyond waiting for Hamahakis to return with news of her Poppa.<p>

It had been such a long time since she had last seen him and that last time she had thought he was dead. Lying flat on the cold stone slab, his hair spread out like a halo around his head and his skin turning the same colour as the grey stone. She was to be the next one to have the blood drained from her as Mistress Hadriana had pointed at her and told the men to clear the table ready for 'that one', only they hadn't had time to do it because the noise of magic and metal clashing had been heard from farther down the caves. "Run!" someone had shouted and run she had. Away from her cold dead Poppa, away from the same fate that awaited her, her bare feet and her heart pounding. She had no idea where she was going and did not care, as long as it took her away from that room. It was the thought that somehow she had run her way back into it that made her stop. It looked the same, but it was empty. Perhaps this was a dream after all, a nightmare her Poppa would wake her from and tell her everything was all right, holding her close to him and stroking her hair.

Then he stood there, just as Mistress Hadriana had told them he would be. Had he killed her already? He had looked so angry, just like the Big Master did when one of them had done something wrong. Fear overtook her and her mouth said things, out the words popped before she had been able to think what she was saying, aware only that she wanted him to stop looking at her like that. "Are you my new Master?" The change in him had scared her almost as much as his angry face, as if the thought of her as his slave was abhorrent to him. If he did not want her and he did not kill her was she to be left wandering these caves forever? Then the lady had asked if she wanted to work for her. It had been a lifeline in the torrent of thoughts running through her head. Somebody wanted her, wanted her to do the things she had always done. Orana gave a small smile as she remembered, at the time she had had no idea what she had just agreed to do. She had just ran off in the direction they pointed, trying not to look at the pools of blood and dead things she passed on her way to the outside once more.

Outside had been no better; she still felt just as lost and did not know what to do other than wait for her new Mistress to find her. It was not her that found her but him. He almost walked right past her, but when he saw her he stopped and sighed.

"I'm Fenris. Come with me."

All the way to Kirkwall and her new home he never uttered another word. A few words with Bodahn in the hallway and then he sat on the bench and stared at the wall, leaving Bodahn to explain and introduce her to her new life. It was Lady Leandra, however who taught her what her new life meant. Always patient and kind, she never said a stern word to her. She was the one who gently guided her through her duties and it was her who gave her the first coin in payment for her work. It was Lady Leandra who comforted her when she found her crying, listened when she talked about how much she missed her Poppa. It was Lady Leandra who helped her go outside of the mansion, explained how the market worked and encouraged her until she felt confident enough to go on her own. Orana sometimes imagined that her own mother would have been just like her had she ever known her. When she died Orana grieved almost as much as she had for Poppa.

Bodahn was always kind and helpful, but it was Sandal who became her friend and taught her to laugh once she realised the chandelier would not break as he swung on it. He was the one who showed her that the big brute of a dog was not to be feared as he wrestled with it on the floor, his face dripping with all the face licks it impressed on him. Sandal would just giggle with no regard for the damage those huge teeth could do if the dog changed its mind about him.

Hawke was a mistress so unlike Hadriana that Orana was flummoxed for a long time. She always asked after her welfare and treated her with respect, but never asked her to anything as if she didn't know what to do with her servants. She was grateful and thanked her for everything she did, confusing Orana even more, wasn't that what she paid her to do? As time went on she spent less and less time in her home, particularly after her mother died and even more so when she and Fenris sorted out whatever the problem was between them. The dwarf Varric had asked her every time he visited what went on between them, questioned her endlessly about every little detail, but what was there to tell him? Isabella was just as bad, but then she would make her blush by suggesting she should find someone to share her bed at night.

The time in Kirkwall had changed her so much, but she had always felt awkward and out of place. Not until they had left and boarded the ship with Isabella had she felt happy again. This had felt like a true home and that had been Hamahakis' doing. Be it up in the crow's nest, huddled down trying to shelter from the wind or hiding in the dark recesses of the cargo hold, where he was felt like home and until he returned this ship might as well be lost at sea. He would not let her go to the estate with him, no matter how much she wanted to see her Poppa, she could be caught and he might never see her again if the plans that the captains had made went wrong. He, on the other hand had grinned and told her they could never catch him. At the time he had sounded so sure of himself and she had believed him, but now...he had been gone so long and the faith she held in him had begun to waiver. If he had not returned by daylight, she would return once more to the estate and give up her freedom if it meant she could see him once more.

The slight shimmer in the shadows and a whisper of a splash of water at the dockside, told her that her wait was over. She scrambled nimbly down the rigging to the deck floor and dashed to the rope she knew his head would rise from. Unlike Fenris, he had decided that the fewer people who caught sight of him the better. If the only people who knew he was in Minrathous were those he arrived with on the ship, then he would have done his job well and he intended to do it extremely well.

He and Fenris had discussed at length what that job was to be. Between them they had drawn a map of the entire estate, Fenris pointing out where the most likely spots were for him to find what they were looking for, Hamahakis deciding the best ways in which he could get to them. Every scrap of memory they had of the estate they shared and cross referenced it with those of Orana and Varania. Hamahakis had shimmied down a rope as soon as the ship had berthed.

His eyes came up to look straight into Orana's looking down at him over the rail.

"Damn it woman. I travel the full length of Minrathous and not one single soul sees me pass and yet you..."

"I'm the only one who looks for you."

"Let's hope it stays that way."

He climbs over the rail and Orana stares up at him expectantly as the sea water slides off the treated leather second skin he wears, the drips gathering into rivulets which run off through the holes at the bottom of the rail.

"He's alive. I saw him, but...he looks so much older."

Orana's eyes fill with tears, "Did you talk to him?"

"You know that I can't." He pulls her into his arms, "I'll get him back to you love. Come on, I need to tell the rest of them what I've found."

* * *

><p>"It's working! Here we are barely a day in this hell hole and Argo has brokered more deals than Gianna could have hoped for in a month! I'm going to be rich and I won't have stolen a damned thing!"<p>

Hawke shakes her head, "What do you mean?"

Isabella grins, "Hooking up with Gianna is the best thing I have ever done! This place is so desperate for trade that we practically have a monopoly on transportation of goods by sea. After two or maybe three trips Gianna will have all the coin she needs to make whatever plans she has for the future possible. I never thought that legal trading could ever be so much more lucrative that piracy, or so much fun!"

Hawke frowned at her, "I thought we were here to rescue slaves."

Isabella's enthusiasm does not dim one iota in the face of Hawke's evident disapproval, "Of course we are! But it isn't the only reason. Our business success is the front that is going to make that easier to do. Our fame is spreading out around the city like a spider's web, catching all like flies ready for this little spider to do whatever she wants with them. Ooh it is so delicious; I think I might just eat them all! Besides Hawke, try and remember that some of us want to be able to return here after you've gone."

Hawke screws up her face, the image of Isabella eating flies popping into her head and looking like it wants to stay there.

"Oh Hawke, don't do that! It doesn't sit well on your magister face. Don't you see? Already there have been enquiries about you. Slaves have started arriving with little notes requesting introductions. I had Harral writing out little notes for them to take back with them, he writes so beautifully, especially after I made him add the flourishes."

"What did you have him write?" Hawke asks with some trepidation.

"See for yourself." She says handing her a small scroll. Hawke unrolls it revealing the unmistakable perfect, unflawed copperplate of Harral's handwriting.

'_Late of Kirkwall, the good Serra Hawke begs welcome from the denizens of Minrathous.'_

"Damn it Isabella! Why didn't you change my name? And you mentioned Kirkwall! All these months at sea, leaving behind the identity and infamy of the Champion and you undo all that in a moment! Why? I thought the idea was to keep it simple, sneak in and sneak out again."

"Hawke, my dearest and darling friend. You are not made for sneaking. You are like a bright lantern in the darkest of nights; people are drawn to you as moths to a flame. The rest of us who are good at sneaking get on with our work in the fantastic shadows you create and for what we are going to do here, we need those great shadows.

The stories Varric told of you have reached here, already the tales of you are entering the realms of myth and legend. By capitalising on your fame we can get all of this done quicker and with Fenris following you about like a puppy any lie we created about you would come undone. Better to shift around the edges of the truth and let the powers that be in Minrathous think that they can get access to the great Champion of Kirkwall and find out the truth for themselves.

Think about it, as far as the Imperium is concerned, you've given the Qunari a bloody nose, sent the rest of Thedas into chaos leaving it ripe for them to pluck back into their own hands again and made sure an army of mages came their way to help with that. Instead of pissing around trying to get a name for yourself so you can find Lucarius, we use what fame you've already got and make sure he comes to you."

Hawke sighs, "I think I would have preferred just dangling the bait of elven slaves for sale to lure him out."

"You got knocked up Hawke; we need it to happen quickly, unless you want to hang around here long enough for that little package in your belly to pop out. A little refugee mage with a few elves for sale will pique his interest. The Champion of Kirkwall as the vendor will guarantee it and I'm willing to bet that Feynriel's Master will be looking to meet you too, which should make grabbing hold of him a little easier."

Hawke has to agree with Isabella, but she can't shake off the uneasy feeling that their simple plan is becoming less and less simple.

The meeting with the slave broker earlier in the morning had been trying. The man was surprisingly polite and had shown her round the slave pens, assuring her that if no private buyers were forthcoming he would guarantee the best price for the elves at the market he was holding in six days. Most of the pens were empty, but the few that were occupied had humans only, sitting on the floor staring into space, not caring about the group looking through the bars at them. Although listless, they appeared in far better health than any of the beggars that roamed the streets, the broker had explained that in Minrathous slaves were considered a great asset and status symbols by their Masters and were generally treated well. His askance look at Fenris told of how much of a status symbol Hawke had already acquired.

One pen had less healthy looking occupants and the man had explained that these were free men and women who looked to sell themselves. Whispering to her from behind the hand over his mouth he explained that normally he wouldn't take on free men and women looking to sell themselves, no one wanted to buy slaves who would cost even more to bring to full health and no guarantee they wouldn't just die anyway, but with all these foreign mages about the place looking to make a name for themselves, well...could she blame him for wanting to make a few more coins?

She had forced herself to smile at him when all she really wanted to do was turn him into a pile of ashes at her feet. His initial politeness had turned into outright sycophancy. He had made all the assumptions Isabella had hoped he would make about Hawke, believing her to be more knowledgeable about the workings of the slave trade than she ever wanted to be and automatically pegging her as a mage of much higher status than the rest of the refugees.

He had offered to pen the elves until market day, but she had managed to decline his offer explaining that she hoped to meet with buyers herself. The fleeting frown across his face told of his disappointment at the lost revenue that would cost him.

"I'm new to the city, perhaps once I am established, I may have need of your other services." She had told him and watched the frown melt at the prospect of future fortune to be made with this slave trader. She had left the broker with a bad taste in her mouth and his assurances that he would find the private buyers she hoped for.

Josson's head came through the door of the cabin,

"I think you'll be wanting to come out now Cap'n, there's one of them boxes on the dock and they're asking to see you Hawke."

Isabella grins at her, "Put your best 'I want to be a magister' face on. With any luck this is our 'in'."

Fenris enters as she leaves, "Are you ready for this?"

"Damned if I know, are you?"

"Yes, but then as Isabella says, all I have to do is stand around with my 'broody face' on. Let's hope she's right." He bends to kiss her in her chair before standing at her back, both of them watching the door to see who will come through.

Isabella opens the door to admit a tall willowy woman dressed in flowing emerald green robes, her flame red hair elaborately styled around her head. Isabella gives a wink to Hawke from behind her before closing the door on the three of them.

"How quaint." She smiles at them, looking around the cabin, "It has been a long time since I stepped foot on a ship. It brings back memories. Just as some other things do." Her eyes linger on Fenris and he remembers her voice. The woman who had not shown fear when Danarius had first presented him all those years ago. The one who had fondled him in front of everyone and made his body react and caused Danarius' anger and jealousy to erupt in violence directed at him the moment his guests had all left. He never saw her face, so focused on pleasing his Master he had not looked at anyone else in the room at the time, but he remembered her voice and her warm breath on his neck. The memory of that night had haunted his dreams until Hawke had come to interrupt the hold its barbaric conclusion had over him. He had thought he had laid that memory to rest firmly in the recesses of his mind, but hearing her voice had sent a ripple of fear through him despite knowing Danarius was dead and could never do that to him again.

Hawke invited the woman to sit, noticing the way her eyes continue to focus on her husband as she gracefully positions herself and the way she has to force herself to break her stare before introducing herself.

"I am Magister Lucressia." She said and paused, obviously expecting that Hawke should recognise the name and be suitably awed that that she had deigned to come to come on board this ship to talk with her. Remembering the times her mother had lectured her on noble etiquette and those nuances of behaviour that told of where you stood on the social ladder, Hawke recovered quickly and picked a spot she hoped was the right number of rungs below this woman's position.

"I'm honoured." She said giving a small forward tilt of her head, not too far forward. Whatever the woman's reasons for being here were, she didn't want to give away too much of a social disadvantage. Lucressia's eyes narrowed. Hawke knew she had got it just right, not enough to cause offence, but enough to let her know that this refugee mage would not be a pushover. She felt the slight knot of tension in her stomach, aware that although few words had been said, she was walking a verbal tightrope. She felt Lucressia's gaze on her like a cold wind as the woman tried to read her before deciding what to say next, the pause only served to increase Hawke's wariness. This woman was dangerous.

"I'll get to the point then, I want your elf."

Hawke's insides ran cold. She should have known right away what this woman wanted from the way she had looked at Fenris.

"He's not for sale." Hawke stated quietly.

"You might not think that, but if you wish to stay alive in Minrathous, there are things you need. I can give you them and that slave is my price."

Hawke felt the woman draw in her mana. If she was to guess, it would be that the next words that come out of her mouth would be filled with persuasion that might well work on most other mages, but Hawke had learned what she needed to resist it from Gracie. At this point in the game though, she did not want any magister aware of any of her talents.

"What things would those be?" she asked stalling her.

"A sponsor, a protector, a teacher and a better place than this to live in." She told her as she waved her hand around the cabin, her lips curling in distaste.

"Could another Magister not be waiting to make the same offer? A better one." Hawke replied knowing that as long as she did not give this woman an outright negative response, she had no need to use those persuasive spells.

Lucressia allowed a fleeting frown to cross her brow. "They might, but I doubt they would be one who had as much...influence as I and they will wish coin, a lot of coin. Or you could take your chances in the Games. In accepting my offer, you would avoid the indignity and risks of the Games and gain a friend."

Hawke had stalled her enough. The conversation was entering the negotiation stage and she did not want to take it too close to the point where they were merely sorting out the terms of an agreement.

"I appreciate what you are saying and I am grateful for the offer, but I will have to think on it. This elf cost a lot to acquire and I am aware of how much of an asset he is to me. He would be difficult to replace."

The corners of Lucressia's mouth gave a slight upward turn, "Very well, have him to yourself for a little while longer. I'm not good at sharing. Come to my estate when you are ready."

Hawke stood up as she stood up making ready to leave and opened the door, but as Lucressia stepped to go through it she turned her head to look at Fenris once more,

"Tell me, how did you kill Danarius?"

For a split second Hawke thought she was asking Fenris the question, but when her eyes turned back to her she knew the woman had no knowledge of how his old Master had died.

"A tale that would take a long time to tell. Perhaps when we next meet I could tell it to you."

"Until then...Hawke."

The door closed and Hawke turned to Fenris and cocked an eyebrow at him, "Well that was ...interesting, care to fill me in?"

Fenris folds his arms and hangs his head and tells her of the part of his memory she had not been privy to. She senses his shame and questions the wisdom of yesterday's trip to the Argent Spire. How many more people had seen him and remembered Danarius' wayward slave? The Divine certainly had. Neither of them needed to say it, Fenris was becoming more of a liability. Isabella had feared that things might progress too slowly, now it looked like some things were moving too fast. If she didn't want to get caught up in a magical wars of words with Lucressia, Lucarius needed to show up soon.

Callers and messengers started arriving thick and fast after that. A few magisters who were only curious to meet the Champion of Kirkwall, several merchants with samples of their wares, a refugee mage from Orlais who came to rant at her for being responsible for the upheaval in Thedas and a delegation of mages from Kirkwall who came to thank her effusively for doing the same. There was a young girl, a native of Minrathous, who had just come into her magic skill who wanted Hawke to train her. When Hawke had asked her why she hadn't gone to the circle, she had told her that no magisters were taking on any new apprentices, they were waiting for the games, "It's your fault that this is happening, so I reckon you owe me." Hawke had smiled at her, admiring her audacity and told her to come back when the games were over, knowing full well that she should be gone from Minrathous before they ever started.

As the sun set another palanquin arrived dockside and when the occupant climbed out they all knew the one they had been waiting for had come. Hamahakis had told them he was the image of his father, and he had not been exaggerating, the only difference was the fewer lines about his face. Hawke wondered if Danarius had carried out one of his twisted experiments on his wife to produce an offspring with so few maternal features. The woman could have stood beside her son and no one would be able to tell they were related in any way. He had that same arrogant swagger to his gait as well, that same confidence that he would have his way in all things.

Any doubts that there was another man who was also hunting for children to buy as slaves were swept aside as soon as he spoke his first words.

"I hear you have elf children for sale. I have come to take them off your hands." He said as he strode directly to Hawke on the deck, the rest of his retinue making haste to follow at his back. Hawke recognised one of them. Looking a little older was the man who had assisted Danarius in the procedure on Fenris. Clicking his fingers at him to call him to his side, Lucarius instructed Hawke to have someone escort the little man to where the children were being held so he could 'determine the quality' of her goods for sale. Dalan and Garp both stepped forward to each side of the man, towering over him. They knew what to do, the signals to give at the gangplank to Charade's ship so that below deck they could prepare for his visit and keep up the masquerade, the man would not be allowed any closer contact than sight of them through the bars of the cage. The man would not see, but the elven hunters and half a dozen other members of Charade's crew would have arrows drawn and ready to fire should he make any move towards harming any of them.

As the three left, Lucarius clicked his fingers once again at others who brought him a chair to seat himself in, set up a small table beside it and filled a cup with wine as he made himself comfortable. Hawke knew that all their plans hinged on her coercing this man to invite her to his estate, but as she opened her mouth his finger went to his mouth to shush her and she could do nothing but wait until the opportunity presented itself. Clearly the man was not prepared to make any polite conversation until the inspection of the potential purchases was over. Not to be outdone, Isabella had a chair brought for Hawke to sit on and everyone kept silent until Dalan and Garp returned with their charge once more.

Lucarius listened as the report on the elves was whispered in his ear, then he turned to Hawke, "Come to my estate tomorrow at noon, bring the elves with you and we shall negotiate. There are some other things I wish to discuss with you and this is not the place to do it. Bring your associates with you if you must, but remember my discussion is with you and no one else."

With that he left, a trail of people hurrying at his back to keep up with him. Isabella came to stand at Hawke's side as they watched Lucarius and his party depart.

"Why do I get the feeling that ours is not the only trap that is being set up?"

"Because that man knows I had something to do with his father's death and not once did he allude to it. I have a bad feeling about this, but it's exactly what we wanted."

"Let's go over what we'll be doing when we get there one more time. We might be on land but my storm sense is tingling again."

* * *

><p>"Hawke?"<p>

She startled at Feynriel's voice. So focused on the archway she hadn't been aware of his arrival. The patches of light that had hung there in her dream for the last few months had gone. For all she had not liked the spirits invading her dream, now that they were gone it seemed like yet another bad sign. And Fenris wasn't here. He was hunting in his own dreams, searching his mental dungeons of old awful memories for any clues that might help them spring Lucarius' trap without them in it. The two sparks were here, but they had gone off exploring in the trees.

She gave him a wan smile, sure that he would only bring more bad news and complications with him.

"We're here. Ready to get you out of Minrathous. What do you need us to do?"

Feynriel laughed, "Not much, you've already done it by getting here! It's a pity my sorry carcass can't move about in the real world the way it can in the Fade then I could have just zapped myself away from here."

He sat down on the grass beside her. "You're the one who looks worried, perhaps I can help you."

"Really? How?"

"I'm a Dreamwalker; I can stalk the fade invading people's dreams and influence their reality. Our blue ethereal friend taught me much. My Master now believes I have embraced the power of my own demon, he doesn't realise that all his beliefs come from my manipulation of his sleeping world. I could manipulate someone else's dream for you."

"Could you find out what Lucarius has planned for us tomorrow?"

"Lucarius? Treats his slaves like shit, desperate for the Senate seat, sucks up the Divine's ass at every chance Lucarius?"

Hawke chuckles, "Sounds like he could be the right one, is there another?"

"Gods I hope not. My Master hates him, sends me to his dreams regularly. Give me a moment."

Feynriel waves his hand and disappears only to reappear almost instantly. "I'm not much good at interpreting the signs in dreams yet Hawke, but he's dreaming of sending out magical blasts at you and a bunch of wolves. It doesn't give much away about what his plans are but I would think that's not good." A slight blush come to his cheeks, "I altered his dream a little.

Ever had one of those dreams where you get...close to someone and the next day you get warm shivers when you remember it? Well, let's just say he'll get very tingly when he sees you. The memory of his dream will make him hesitate."

"Feynriel! You mean he's dreaming about having sex with me right now? Ugh, that's a horrible thing to do!"

"For you maybe, but definitely not for him. What can I say? I'm a young man and that was the best thing I could think of."

"It's just as well Fenris isn't here."

Feynriel grins impishly and changes the subject, "So...I take it we're leaving Minrathous after your visit?"

"Yes, all you need to do is be at the ship when we get back. Can you do that?"

"Should be easy enough. Your arrival here has caused a bit of a stir. My master has talked about paying you a visit; I'll just persuade him that tomorrow would be a good day to do it. I should warn you, he is pretty good with sleep spells, not much good at anything else. It's why he knew so much about what I can do, fancied himself as a Dreamwalker. It could be problem, what if he knocks us all out?"

"I'll get Dalan and Garp to deal with him. They'll knock him out with big non-magical fists."

"Works for me Hawke. I'll see you tomorrow."

* * *

><p>The only advantage that Hawke could discern travelling in a palanquin had was that the curtains did help to filter out most of the nastier smells of Minrathous and together with the incense urn swaying above her it almost smelled pleasant inside the wooden framed box. It was definitely the only advantage. The silly urn had managed to whack her on the head a few times which pretty well negated its only useful purpose. It was hot and stuffy and she just knew that it would still be hot and stuffy even if she wasn't wearing the leather outfit Varania had made her underneath the fancy embroidered mage robes. Having Isabella beside her in a cubicle that was only designed for one person wasn't helping either.<p>

"Are you sure you couldn't have found some other way to sneak along on this journey? You know, like trailing a few yards at the back, hiding behind pillars and trees and things and catching up when you could."

"Stop whining Hawke. Of course I could have, but this is much better. They won't be expecting two people in here; I get straight into the estate without having to risk getting caught following you. You could have it worse, think about poor Orana, hiding in the bench on the slave cart."

She did think about Orana, huddled in the small dark wooden box with Varania and the carter sitting on top of her and Hamahakis beside the elf children in the cage the cart was towing. Although the two elven hunters said they would keep him hidden between them, keeping his stealth ability going for this long must be taking its toll on him. He had only agreed to Orana coming along because he was in that cage at her back. Orana had made it clear that she was coming whether Hamahakis agreed to it or not. She was going to help get her Poppa out of that place and Hawke had to admit, her knowledge of the layout of the estate would help to get any slaves out of there much quicker than someone who had no idea where they were going. Fenris, Damian, Josson and Duke all carried the palanquin, each of them with a corner. Hawke had thought she and Isabella were going to be thrown out in the process of lifting it. It was absolutely the silliest form of transport ever. She wished she could join Trix and Charade, who walked alongside it.

This was it, the party that was going to get done everything they had come to Minrathous for. Hamahakis would follow the children down to the cells where he was sure the other children had been taken. Varania would follow behind and make sure the way was open for them all to get back out again. Orana would find her Poppa and bring him to the ship along with any other slaves that wished to join them. Isabella would find the notes and papers that Danarius had left and no doubt a few other trinkets as well, she hoped to leave Lucarius so bereft of assets that he would be unable to purchase any more slaves for a long time. Hawke was to keep Lucarius occupied and distracted while they were doing all this. Everyone else was to fill gaps in the plan should they appear. None of them doubted that they would.

"Don't worry Hawke, if worst comes to worst; we'll blitz him, just like we did to his dear old dad. Fenris is here to do his good old heart ripping thing once again. It's been a while, I'm sure he'd enjoy it."

Hawke is sure that this venture will almost certainly lead to some heart ripping, "You're right, it's not like we're facing a rabid Knight Commander and an army of Templars."

"That's the spirit! We've been through much worse. This will be child's play."

The sudden drop and the sound of wood on gravel unbalance them and lets them know they have arrived.

Hawke steps out into a world that is ridiculous in its contrast with the centre of Minrathous. The smell has gone replaced by that of cut grass and the wafting scents of the flowers in the carefully tended gardens. The main villa of the estate is clean and neat and grand. No crumbling points of masonry, no missing tiles on the roof and no dust to catch in swirls in the light breeze. This place is as beautiful as the rest of Minrathous is ugly.

Fenris steps in at her back as she makes her way to the man who looks as if he may some kind of steward who bows and indicates she should follow him. He leads them into a bright airy hallway and straight through to the gardens that nestle in the centre of the villa. A perfect square, the area is filled with the sound of the cascading water of the fountain. Lemon trees grow in large clay containers. Herbs fill raised planters. A large silk canopy shelters couches from the noon sun and the two figures who sit below it.

Hawke can almost hear the loud snap of the trap Lucarius has set spring when she recognises the black robes of the Divine who sits with him. Of all the scenarios they had discussed of the ways in which Lucarius could upset their plan, not one had considered this.

"Sit." Lucarius orders her. Hawke pauses for a moment before acceding to his order. So this is how it's going to be she thought, no pleasantries, no lulling her into a false sense of security, no going through the motions of negotiation, no chance to be scintillating and distracting. The man doesn't even rise from his chair to greet her. He has to be very sure of his position in this drama. She can do nothing but as he dictates right now. With the Divine at his side he knows the power he has over her. As for the man in black, he sits sedately, quietly observing from the recesses of his hood. Hawke sees the slight falter in Lucarius' breath as he looks at her before saying any more, but any advantage Feynriel had given her was lost in this situation.

"You have a choice. Leave here now with your life and leave behind the last of my inheritance." He says, a finger pointing at Fenris, "Or we duel and you die."

What kind of stupid trap is this? A choice? Since when did traps involve giving your prey a way out or the opportunity to fight them one to one? He did sound very sure of himself, how powerful a mage was he? And another one that wanted Fenris, if she had known how popular he was going to be then she would never have agreed to bring elf children with them and Isabella wouldn't have needed to broadcast her fame. That was a lie, who was she kidding? If she had known she'd have locked him up in the damned hull and refused to let him out until Minrathous was far behind them. If those outside the villa were to have any chance of carrying out their plan, this was the only chance she was going to get to distract Lucarius long enough. A straight up mage fight was not the distraction she'd hoped for and it was somewhat risky, but there really was no other choice and prepared to give her answer.

"I don't think so." The rich deep timbre of the voice of the Divine interrupted just as she opened her mouth to speak.

"What?!" Lucarius blurted out as the black hood was pulled back to give Hawke her first sight of the man who ruled the Tevinter Empire. A gaunt man with dark, dark eyes and peppered grey and black hair, cut short and close to the contours of his skull.

"I invited you here to ensure the laws were upheld! I told you what I planned, why do you stop this now?" He suddenly realises who he is shouting at when those dark eyes turn to him and quickly reins in his temper.

"Because you attempt to twist the law and use me to do it. You think to duel Messere Hawke here, where certain...advantages will be available to you and no other mage will challenge your claim."

"But she killed my father!"

"Precisely. It is she who has a claim on your inheritance. Don't try to fool me that you do this to avenge his death."

"But it wasn't on Tevinter soil and she never made any claim!" Lucarius wails. Hawke can only watch and listen as the turn in events is explained to her through their argument.

"Kirkwall _is_ Tevinter soil and it is reasonable to allow that a claim could not be made until she arrived here. If you wanted to make sure no claim was forthcoming, then you should have sought her out yourself and taken care of that possibility."

"Your Eminence," Lucarius says cryptically, "You _know_ I need that slave."

"Ah yes, the slave. The only part of your father's estate she _has_ laid claim to. The only part of his estate you did not rush to collect." He stands and gives a small wave of his hand and from every arch of the gallery surrounding the garden a Templar appears. One comes forward to kneel at the Divine's feet awaiting his orders.

"This slave is in dispute. Take him to a cell in the Spire. Magister Lucarius will confine himself to the Circle Towers. Messere Hawke is to be a guest at the Archon's palace. They are to remain there until the duel is fought and the victor decided."

The Templar starts barking out orders to his men and they move towards the group to carry them out. Hawke stands up and turns to Fenris, his eyes downcast and looking defeated. He gives a small shake of his head, now is not the time to fight back. She knows he has started blaming himself already for this, but if she doesn't do something they are going to take him away from her. In desperation she turns back round,

"I would accept the challenge now, today."

Lucarius has the decency to looked shocked, surprised and a little hopeful, not so the Divine.

"As I said Messere Hawke, I think not." His clipped tone will accept no further argument on this.

"Please your Eminence, when will the duel take place?" Lucarius asks, "I need to prepare."

"You were prepared today magister! You will fight at the Games of course, in public, before your peers so all may witness its resolution."

"And the other slaves? I need them too."

The black eyes flash, "What of them? They are not yours yet! You have tried my patience enough today mage!"

"Someone else might buy them while I am...indisposed."

The Divine orders the Templar Commander to take all of Messere Hawke's slaves to the Argent Spire and then pulls up his hood. There will be no further conversation.

The full measure of her failure is blatantly clear as they are guided back outside the villa. Templars had already started escorting the rest of the party outside the gates of the estate. All that scheming and they had only got as far as the front door.


	15. Chapter 15

Anders could barely contain his excitement as they reached the south gate of Minrathous. At last he would see what it was like to live as a free mage. Able to cast spells in the full glare of the noonday sun and not have Templars come to cart you off to the nearest Circle. To be treated with respect and not fear, no one spitting on you or calling you names. Stuff reporting back to the wardens, if this place was half as great as he imagined then he was staying.

The journey to get here had been largely uneventful; the odd bandit they had met had been strangely subdued. One spoke of how banditry was becoming a very poor career choice, the only likely targets they came across these days were refugee mages and even if they managed to avoid the fireballs and lightning, they possessed nothing worth plundering. They had met plenty of mages on the run, most of them hungry and desperate, fearful of Carver and all heading north. Anders had taken great delight in telling them he was his Templar lover, breaking all of his vows to ensure the safety of his one true love. Carver had pleaded with him to stop, but he wasn't coming up with a better cover story, so until he did Anders would continue to kiss him and snuggle into him when relating their tale and generally make Carver as uncomfortable as possible.

They had ridden north with as much haste as the horses would allow, avoiding all villages, towns, farms and small holdings, fearing that a description of Anders would find its way to Sebastian's ears. Anders had complained long and loud about the sores on his backside when healing them at night. Carver wasted no time in reminding him it was his sorry arse that had got them into this situation. Not until they were well inside Imperium lands did they stop at a village, hoping for some news of the wider world. In the local tavern all they heard were local farmers, labourers and village drunks discussing the whys and wherefores and the pros and cons of war which they were certain would come their way. Most were stoical believing the most they would see of it would be the soldiers passing through on their way south. The innkeeper pointed them to the imperial edict nailed to the oak post at the end of the bar. Signed by the Archon himself it directed "all those with magical talent to avail themselves at the Circles of Magi in Minrathous for aid and assistance."

"It sounds terribly helpful." Anders had commented. The innkeeper had offered them a meal and a bed for the night, but strongly suggested they move on in the morning, unless they wanted the village priest to start pestering them relentlessly to do so.

"'Relentless pestering sounds' a lot nicer than chains and a dagger at your back." Said Anders, thinking of the far worse treatment he had received at the hands of Templars when they had wanted him to 'avail' himself at a Circle.

People were passing through the gate unhindered. The majority of them refugees, but the odd travelling salesman and farmer's cart had also found its way into the throng. Carver stopped at the guard post to ask for directions to stables for the horses and the man started laughing at him.

"The only use we have for horses here is in the eating of them. Head straight to the market and flog them mate. Might as well get some coin for 'em, if you don't all you'll have is a few bones lying about in the morning."

"Well, can you recommend somewhere to stay here?"

The man bursts out in raucous laughter again, "Fuck me, but you refugees are all comedians. I wish you would find out more about the place you all run to. You both do magic right? Am I right? I had better be or you two won't stand a chance in this fucking place. Now listen good and hard as I'm only telling you the once and I'm only telling you 'cos you make me laugh. There are no fucking taverns, inns, flophouses or establishments you can pay your money and get a nice cosy little bed for the night. If you do magic, you could try one of the Circle Towers, they might put you up, but I doubt there's any space left up there. If you've got a friend in the city with their own little place, they might supply you with a warm little blanket and make friends with their floor. You both look like 'ealthy lads, you could sign up with the army or the Templars and they'll give you nice little cots in the barracks. If none of them options takes yer fancy, then pick a spot in one of the empty 'ouses, but I'll warn you, don't fall asleep, you'll only wake up dead. Now fuck off unless you've got more jokes to tell me."

"I wonder why he didn't mention becoming a guard as an option." Anders comments to Carver as they make their way past the gate.

"He probably knew you'd want to share his bed with him. Come on, let's find this market."

While Carver negotiates a price for the horses, Anders wanders around. Minrathous is not what he thought it would be. The place was awash with people, but the mages he spotted looked to be in no better state than the beggars. It should have been alive with mages casting colourful spells, entertaining large crowds that surrounded them, showing off to the world their magical prowess. Instead they stood at corners, lucky if they had enough mana to sustain a tiny glowing globe above their heads to advertise their ability. They looked tired and drawn as if they were glad just to have made it here and not have Templars chasing at their heels any more. Where were the magisters? Walking down streets as if they owned the place, sending out the odd blast of force to remind people of how powerful they were, looking grand and intimidating. Living as a free mage did not seem to be anything like he expected, he hadn't blown up a Chantry for this.

Uncomfortable with where his thoughts were taking him, he started listening in to the conversations around him as a distraction. Most were banal, people talked of the weather, complained about the beggars and the thieving, how poor the trading was and what they were going to eat that night. The man talking to one of the mages caught his attention, arguing over the price he was asking for a spell to heal the boy who was with him. The boy stood silently, obviously in pain and holding his stomach. Anders was reminded of his days in the clinic in Darktown, there he had healed people for free, grateful for any donation they were prepared to give to keep the clinic going, he had never haggled with anyone insisting on coin before helping them like this mage was doing. The spell required was so simple as well. The argument stopped when the man told the mage to forget it, he would find someone else. Anders couldn't resist, he approached him and the boy and offered his own services.

"Unless you want less than that bastard, no deal." The man stated bitterly.

"How about I do it for nothing?"

"There's nothing for free in this city. Don't mess with me, just state your price and I'll think about it. There are at least a dozen more I can try before I have to agree on any price." Anders doesn't think about it, he just reaches out and touches the boy's forehead.

"There, that should do it."

The boy's pale pallor disappears along with the dark circles under his eyes. He gives a small sigh as the pain he was feeling is relieved.

"What the...are you mad?" the man starts pulling at the boy's face, checking that he has actually been healed. Once satisfied that he is in better health than he was, he gives Anders a fleeting questioning glance before ordering the boy to the docks,

"Find out if that bitch has left yet and come straight back here." The boy wastes no time and races off to carry out his bidding.

"You! Why would you do that?"

"Because I can."

The man stands and gives Anders a long look. "You've obviously got a few screws loose mage, but if you're dishing out your magic for free, any chance you could add a couple of inches on to my...you know what?"

Anders bursts out laughing, "I don't think so, you're life isn't going to end because your dick is small!"

"It was worth a shot. That pirate bitch at the docks gave me a hell of a good time a few years back, tells me she doesn't do that anymore. I was thinking if I had a little extra to offer her, maybe I could change her mind."

"That pirate bitch wouldn't be called Isabella would she?"

"Sure, you know her too?" said the man raising his eyebrows suggestively.

Anders grins, "Oh yes."

"Well be warned, she's changed, says she going straight. I've sent a few contracts her way, thought she would have left by now, but she's hanging on for something."

The boy came racing back to them, "Another ship's come in and its captain is a dwarf!"

"No shit! This I have to see." The man sets off towards the docks without a backward glance, the boy skipping after him.

Anders returns to Carver who has concluded the sale and is grumbling under his breath about how little coin he got for the horses.

"Hey, chin up! I have some good news, Isabella's here, looks like we'll be sleeping in decent beds after all."

* * *

><p>The Archon's palace was large, opulent, and beautiful and yet it felt more like a tomb than a palace. The echoing sound of Hawke's boots on the marble floor sounded out of place. She felt she should have been wearing the silk slippers she had found in one of the wardrobes of the rooms she stayed in, but Harral had enchanted these boots to the hilt and she wasn't about to risk losing the advantages they gave her just to fit in with her surroundings. Likewise the mage armour Varania had made for her. Every morning the slaves allocated to her wellbeing tried to persuade her to wear the flowing silk, satin and velvet gowns that were trimmed with furs, pearls and jewels and every morning she refused. She also noticed every morning how the lace ends were becoming shorter and shorter on her trousers. She had given up on hiding her expanding midriff, it hadn't seemed necessary once the Divine had commented. That hadn't been the only thing he had commented on.<p>

It was three days before anyone came to see her. The first day she had sat staring at the four walls of the room the Templars had shown her to. Initially going over everything that had happened over and over again, trying to figure out what she had missed. Every detail of everything they had done since coming to Minrathous, she replayed in her head. What clue had she overlooked that would have warned her of what was coming. In between the memories, worry started to creep in. What had happened to everyone else? Where were they? Were they still alive? The small tug on her ring reminded her that there was one way open to her to get some answers. Sleep had not come easy though, she had had to cast a sleep spell on herself.

Fenris had reassured her that they were all well. They were all being held in priests' quarters, not the barred cells they had all initially thought they would be taken to. Already they were being surprisingly well cared for, priests had brought them food and had asked them what they needed. Although Templars guarded the exit, they were free to move about within the enclosed area. There was even a small garden. It seemed they were not exactly prisoners; they were property that had to be maintained until their true owner was established. The priests were neither kind nor cruel, merely caretakers. They had agreed that for now, there was nothing to be done. Varania thought it a much better place for the children to stay than in the hold of the ship. While Fenris was clearly unhappy with their incarceration, he felt that they were being held not to stop them from getting out, but to prevent harm reaching them. They were safe. Fenris had given her the same report every night since.

The second day she began to test the limits of her own situation. The Divine had said she was to be a guest, and for the most part that seemed to be the case. It was the Templars in the grand entrance hall who 'suggested' to her that she should not leave the palace and advised her that it was unlikely that visitors would be made welcome. They intimated that the repercussions for them would be dire indeed should they fail in their given task. There was the same implication with the slaves who had been sent that day. The two women and one man were all elves. One of them was by her side at every moment, ready to attend to her every whim. Hawke had tried to explain that she was perfectly capable of attending to her own whims, but they had just bowed at her and stood at the ready. She had thought at first they were mute, it had been after days of repeated asking that they had finally whispered to her their names.

Feynriel had caught up with her in her dreams that night. His optimism and complete faith in her was refreshing, the events of the last few days he had accepted as a minor setback. He had laughed when he told her Dalan and Garp had done just as she had said they would and knocked his Master out as soon as they spotted Isabella returning to the ship. The fact that they failed to spot the large body of Templars accompanying her had caused a deal of consternation. Isabella had pulled out all the stops to placate the Templars to stop them dragging off the two sailors for assaulting a magister. Dalan and Garp had made a good show of looking suitably chagrined at the verbal blasting she gave them and the Templars hadn't stood a chance in the face of her unabashed sexually charged reassurances that she would ensure the magister would be 'taken care of'. Feynriel had quickly backed up her tale that she was the reason for the visit and the Templars had marched off, many with backward glances at Isabella who blew kisses at them until they were out of sight. His master had woken with her stroking his cheek and looking with deep concern into his eyes. Feynriel spoke with wonder at seeing Isabella's wily ways in action and admitted that his master might not have been the only one who was immediately smitten with her at that point. He and his master had left the ship, the man still distinctly wobbly, but muttering under his breath that he would gladly take another punch if it meant she would bring him round again. Isabella had had managed to whisper to Feynriel that he would not be abandoned; when the time came he would not be left behind.

Feynriel may have lost his heart to her completely had he not entered her dreams.

"Hawke, your friends' dreams are insane! The only one I could manage a sensible conversation with was the tranquil mage and I'm not sure that he actually dreams. It's more like a place he just goes to in his sleep to process and catalogue all he has learned that day. Still, if you need to get any messages to your friends, he's the best bet to get them delivered."

The third day she explored the palace. Grand rooms with sparse but elegant furnishings led off the corridors. She met no one in the upper floors, every room was deserted. There was no one to chide her as she opened drawers, wardrobes, cabinets and cupboards, all of them empty. The slave who followed said nothing. The basement floors were kitchens, the laundry, wine cellars and store rooms. The only thing untoward was the lack of dungeons, torture chambers and general parts of a palace that one didn't want to end up.

The main floor had a similar layout to that of the Viscount's Keep in Kirkwall. The library was large and looked impressive, but contained only tomes on the history of the Imperium, laws of the Imperium, biographies of prominent figures of the Imperium, an unexpectedly large section of romantic fiction and rolls and rolls of scrolls of edicts signed by Archons going back centuries. The only book of any real interest was the unadulterated copy of the Chantry set apart on its own podium. What was more interesting was the locked door at the rear of the room, the only locked door she had found in the whole place. If Isabella was here, then perhaps she might have gained access. She found what should have been the Guards' barracks, but there were no guards and no sign that there had been any for a long time. The guard Captain's office brought back memories of Aveline, but this office had nothing in it to suggest there had ever been someone like Aveline who had worked here. Other rooms led off from the staircase landing, most of them furnished only with a desk and empty bookshelves. The hall that led to the Throne room had walls lined with paintings of very serious looking men and women that Hawke assumed were portraits of old Archons. Hawke half expected the door to the throne room to be locked as it had at the Viscount's Keep most of the time, but the door swung open easily at her first pull on the handle.

Hawke gave a small gasp when she saw the size of the room, the whole of the Viscount's Keep could have fitted in here with some room to spare. Great gilded columns rose at even intervals holding up the lofty arches of the ceiling. The chandeliers that descended were the size of small houses; Hawke could imagine the splendour of the dancers at balls caught in the glittering light that they would give out. She thought there must be hundreds of the ornately carved tables and chairs that hugged the edges of the walls. Thousands of people could fit in this space and she supposed at one time there must have been. As she approached the dais of the throne itself she could see large leather lined chairs arranged in a semi-circle before it. It was only as she placed a foot on the first of the steps leading up the dais that she saw the perfectly still man sitting on the throne and the elven girl hugging her knees as she sat at his feet.

The girl was the only one to respond to her presence as her eyes followed her ascent. The golden haired man in his deep purple robes sat staring straight ahead. A handsome man by any standards, he looked to be of the age her father would have been had he lived. The slight rise and fall of his chest and the occasional blinking of his eyes were the only indications that the man was alive. Then she recognised the other signs and Hawke felt a rising horror as she realised they were the signs of a man made Tranquil.

"Behold Messere Hawke, Archon and ruler of the Tevinter Imperium." Hawke jumped at the voice of The Divine in her ear. How had she not heard his approach? Her attendant slave obviously had, she was curled on the floor, her brow pressed to the cold stone of the floor.

"You did this to your own emperor? Why would you do this? I didn't think you even knew how to do this here!"

"I am a priest, of course I know how to still someone's magic. As to why I would still an emperor? I would not have thought the Champion of Kirkwall to be so politically naive. Why do you think I would have done this?"

Damned priests, she thought, never give you a straight answer and just tell you. They always have to get you to do your own thinking. She wasn't so naive that she didn't recognise this was a test, her answer would tell the man much about her. If she wasn't careful she would give away more than she wanted to. But the man had already given away something of himself; he hadn't even blinked when he admitted this was his doing. She didn't need to think for long.

"Power without the title. Archons are elected, you couldn't get elected. Whether that was due to your position in the Chantry or just not having enough friends that would vote for you, I couldn't say, so if you killed him you still wouldn't be Archon. Making him Tranquil would make him malleable to your control and keeping him alive would mean that another Archon could not be elected. How am I doing?"

The Divine gave a small smirk, "As good as I expected. Anything else you'd like to add?"

Damn it, the man was doing the same thing her father used to do, prodding her into thinking deeper about the subject he was trying to teach her. "He makes a fine warning to anyone who has thoughts of changing your new order of things." Including me she thought.

"And so the point is made. Come; let us retire to your quarters."

"You just leave him here all day?" Hawke asks, glancing back at the Archon as they make their way out of the throne room.

"It makes him easy to find when I need him to sign edicts. The slave takes care of his needs. I allow him out from time to time; the people need to see him. He will come to the Games and witness your duel for example."

"And he takes the blame for unpopular edicts."

"And the popular ones. I receive no credit for what I do."

Sure you don't, Hawke thought, just all the magisters tip toeing around you, terrified that they might lose their magic and become as the Archon was. How they must hate him.

"Is there not a risk that one of the other magisters will just kill him? That would force a return to the old way would it not?"

The smirk appeared again, "You have seen the Templars, no one with that thought in mind can enter here."

"Yet you let me wander about."

"You will not risk your child's life to take that of a man you do not have issue with."

Nothing more was said until they reached the suite of rooms she was staying in. The slaves quickly brought food and refreshments and laid them on the table for the two to partake of when their conversation resumed.

"I noticed that you have claimed more of Danarius' estate than Lucarius was aware of. You have three more slaves that I remember being in his previous possession, including another that was...shall we say altered. Your sale of slaves was no more than a ruse to enable you to try to claim the rest was it not?"

Hawke cursed inwardly. How much more had the man 'noticed'? Aside from that, the man was also making assumptions about her motivations. His arrogance was telling him that he was right. She decided she was not about to disavow him of that notion.

"The usual paths to becoming a magister were not to my liking."

The man actually laughed. "Claim the title with the estate. Your methods are as subtle as mine. It would have worked; I almost wish Lucarius had not asked for my intervention. Instead I force you to do it the way we have done it in Tevinter for centuries."

"You 'almost' wish?"

"It would have unsettled the political balance in my favour. I would not have denied you the title and you would serve as a different kind of warning. However, I have bigger plans. The participation of the Champion of Kirkwall in the Games will be as a call to arms for all mages in Thedas. They come here merely to escape the war you started. You would bind them together in a common cause. My cause. The Imperium gains much having the Champion as a magister."

"I could lose the duel."

"You could and then Lucarius has the slave. He works to provide me with an army of slaves like the ones you have claimed from his father, the slave is the key to completing that work."

"And the slaves I have for sale."

"Yes, he does go through rather a lot of them, but with Danarius' Pet in his hands, I daresay more of them will survive."

"So you don't really care who wins this duel. An army of mages if I win an army of enhanced slaves if he wins."

"Both outcomes have their merits." He was so damned smug as he said it. Hawke didn't know how, but she would wipe that smile off his face, but she did know that it would not be until after facing Lucarius.

* * *

><p>"Can't we at least try Isabella?" Carver pleaded.<p>

"What's this 'we' you're talking about? It's me that would be doing it and I refuse. Hawke says it's not worth the effort."

"But..."

"But nothing Carver! We've discussed this; your sister is safe for now and managing to keep in touch with us. There's nothing worth stealing up there and I am not going to risk getting my ass kicked by a bunch of Templars to try and rescue someone who says they don't need rescuing right now!"

Carver runs his fingers through his hair, his frustration clear, "Well, why can't we use him?" he stops and points at Anders who until this point had been lolling leisurely in a chair with his feet up on the table, unconcerned about the argument going on around him. "And just how would you use me?" Anders asks, feeling a worm of worry gnawing at his brain, knowing that Carver's ideas are not usually the best ones. Ignoring Anders entirely Carver pitches his idea at Isabella,

"Do what you did with my sister, send out the word that he's in town, get the magisters to get curious enough to come and meet him. I need to find out what they are up to! I can't go back to the Wardens with nothing to report!"

Anders imagines his head worm suddenly sprouting horrendously big teeth, gnashing away as it turns his brain into pulp. Isabella's ideas are no better than Carver's and she might just agree with what he suggests. He could understand his desperation though, Minrathous was bereft of magisters. They had all scuttled off to hide behind the gates of the great estates. The only ones to be found in the Circle Tower were the ones that Lucarius had with him and they had closeted themselves away, presumably to hide like the rest of the magisters from the throng of mages desperate to find a sponsor. It was very hard to spy on people when you couldn't get near them. It is Damian who comes to his rescue.

"I don't think that's wise, using Hawke's celebrity had consequences we didn't expect. I think we've had enough surprises." Anders hadn't liked the big man when they first met, but now he had rocketed up his likability rating and he could have kissed him.

"Hmm, I suppose the Black Divine would not take too kindly to the man who blew up a Chantry, unless you want to join the rest of our friends in the Spire Anders?" Isabella asks sarcastically.

"You know I have a distinct aversion to being locked up. It hasn't happened for a while and I'd like it to stay that way." Anders replies giving her a very relieved smile.

"Isabella, please. I can't just sit here doing nothing! I won't go back to waiting on my sister again!"

"Don't worry Junior, you won't have to." She looks at Damian who nods.

"There is one interesting development that we can salvage from the fiasco that led to the capture of your sister and our friends." Isabella paused dramatically, giving Carver a wicked grin, "Now there is a great big, fat, magister estate sitting without a magister in it. I'm willing to guess that there are piles and piles of documents just lying around that might be of interest to your Grey Wardens. Our interests lie in the poor bastards that have found themselves locked up in there. Fancy a trip to the hinterlands of Minrathous Carver?"

* * *

><p>Hawke had thought she might have gone mad with boredom in the palace had she not gone to speak with the Archon. Not that his conversation was lively enough to make every day pass in scintillating conviviality and make the time here more interesting, but he had told her how to open the locked door in the library. She had asked, never thinking that he would actually tell her, but out the answer had popped no wheedling or trying to think of a logical argument as to why she should have access. The man was like a living reference book, she asked questions, he gave answers and as long as she wasn't asking for an opinion or how he felt about something, the answers were always straightforward. She now passed her days going back and forth between the library and the throne room.<p>

The door in the library had required a key and a spell to open. A few steps led down into darkness. Hawke had quickly created a magelight and the rays had spread out revealing a space that ran underneath the throne room and was almost as large. A maze of bookshelves, map drawers, cupboards, glass topped cabinets and felt covered notice boards filled it. Great desks sat side by side in the centre to make one big desk, the entire surface covered in books, scrolls, inkwells, quills and scraps of paper. Unlike the rest of the palace, every drawer, cupboard and bookshelf had something inside. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust. It had taken Hawke a whole afternoon just to orientate herself to the place.

The Archon later told her how a small army of his personally sponsored magisters had worked here, sorting out the information that came from all corners of the Imperium and from Imperial spies further afield. Puzzled, she had asked why the Divine had not emptied it as he had the rest of the palace; surely he would have wanted all the information contained in there. His explanation was simple, "He took my magic, I would not give him the key. He might have taken more."

"Why let me have it then?"

"You did not take my magic."

It sounded remarkably like resentment that the Archon was showing, but he was tranquil wasn't he? Tranquil didn't have feelings, did they?

Hawke spent days trawling through the books and documents, the majority of the information now irrelevant. There was ship manifests, shopping lists, invoices, letters, lists of merchants with the trade routes and goods they sold, architectural drawings of every major building in Thedas, reports on the coming and goings of nobles and royalty, maps of Dalish camps, Deep roads, Qunari strongholds, it went on and on, all the little details of life in the known world. The books were mostly theses by magisters on magic, but Hawke did find a section of ancient spell books and another that was full of books written in texts she could not fathom. The notice boards had lists of Imperial spies and their locations pinned to them as well as updates on Qunari movements, magisters and their apprentices and minutes of meetings. No dates went beyond the moment the Archon had been stilled.

It was as she shuffled through a pile of letters, Danarius' name leapt out at her. It was nothing more than a list of magisters who were to be invited to a ball in the palace, but it made her think there might be more about him. With no better way to make sense of all the information available, she started hunting out other documents that mentioned him. She found copies of the estate accounts, lists of guests who attended dinners, records of properties he held outside of Minrathous, she even found copies of the documents that changed the status of Varania and her mother from slaves to free elves. It was after that she found the letters. Inside a deep drawer she found them tied up in bundles, sorted chronologically, all from Danarius to the Archon. They revealed details of the journeys Danarius had made outside of Tevinter territory, the many successes and failures of his experiments and his dealings with other magisters, but the letter that had shook in her hand when she read it, the last letter, was the one that gave the answer to why Fenris had been hunted for years, why Danarius had never given up trying to reclaim him, why Hamahakis had silverite poured in his tattoos. She stuffed the letter back in the drawer with the rest and burned them.

* * *

><p>Carver winced at the cackle sounding out at his back. Did the little witch not have the sense to keep quiet? Carver hadn't known what to make of her when the girl Trix had brought her on board. Damian had been going over what they were all to do once they got into the estate, when Trix had barged into the cabin, jumping up and down, screaming at the top of her voice "They're here!" and ran off again. Isabella had related the story of what had happened at Seere while they waited for Trix to return and had tried to warn him of what to expect, but nothing she said could have prepared him for the force of nature that was Gracie.<p>

She had come into the cabin and without preamble had demanded to know what they were doing and told them their plan was "rubbish", then proceeded to lay out a better one. The annoying part was that she was right. And now he found himself acting as sentry, while Gracie dismantled the magical barrier on the door that led to what should be the warren of cells and laboratory area of the estate. Anders, Trix and the witch called Marta crouched at the side of the wall.

"Piece of piss." The old woman said as she opened the door, "Stop waving that sword around and get your lazy arse in here boy, Derval will knock out any bastard stupid enough to follow us." Carver rolled his eyes, he knew she was right to be confident, but it did no harm to be careful. Derval had gone off with Isabella, their job to render unconscious anyone who looked as if they might put a spanner in the works of their activities. That Isabella was also on the lookout for valuable knick-knacks was beside the point as she said. Argo had headed off towards the slave quarters with the one called Cory in tow. "Without the hat on, he looks like an old hand at being a slave," Gracie had said, "The little elf's Poppa will trust him and Cory will whip up a likeness of her so he knows they're telling the truth." Carver had tried hard to forget Gracie's promise of a good shagging to Argo when he got back to the ship, as well as the look of delight on Argo's face at the prospect; it was all just too disgusting.

Trix confirmed there were no mages about as they descended the stairs of the tunnel beyond the door. "Devious bastard." Gracie cursed as they reached a second magically barriered door, but seconds later she had it swinging open.

"Master?" the little man at the desk said before his eyes widened and he realised it wasn't his master who was coming through the door.

"That's the one who inspected the little elves." Trix told Gracie.

"And a right piece of darkspawn shit he looks too. Right then you little asswipe, give us the tour and bring any keys you'll need to open doors."

"Do as the lady says." Said Anders, grabbing the man by the collar and hauling him onto his feet.

It was obvious no one was expected to be able to get past the two entry doors and that very few people were ever allowed entry to this place, or more correctly few people that were allowed to leave after entering.

Carver went round kicking open all of the six doors around the walls of the room. There wasn't the sound of footsteps running along the corridor to investigate the commotion from any of them.

"Let's do this methodical like," said Gracie, "How about this one first." And she started down the corridor of the first passageway on the left. They didn't have to go far before it opened out onto a tiled room with a large wooden table at the centre, leather restraints hanging limp down its sides, iron manacles lying open. Traces of dried blood and other bodily effluence could be seen and smelled around the floor of the table. Small spots of metallic droplets led along the floor to the still warm smelter in the right hand corner. From hooks on the wall hung knives, ladles, tongs and a variety of implements Carver couldn't put a name to. He thought of Fenris and what had been done to him, this was the place. He turned to Anders, "And you wondered why he hated mages so much."

"Not enough that he would leave your sister alone." Anders snapped back, then almost immediately hung his head and waved a hand in apology at Carver.

"Turned him down did she?" Gracie asked him.

"Long story, let's move on."

There was a long corridor lined with empty cells through the next doorway. The next one led into a study.

"Save us some trouble, tell us what's here." Anders growled in the ear of the man he still held by the collar.

"Th...Th...The old master's notes. E..E..Everything."

"Fine. Next door Carver."

Carver was sure he could hear breathing as he moved up the next corridor and raised his sword, if some bastard was hiding here, he wasn't going to waste time keeping him alive and letting him guide them around, but it wasn't someone waiting to ambush them. Deep in his heart he half wished it was when he saw the first of the occupied cells. Trix and Marta ran past him, but it was Gracie who held out her hand to Ander's captive, who fumbled in his pocket before bringing forth a key and handed it to her. Carver had thought he had hardened himself to seeing horrible things, but his head was having a hard time seeing the state of the children in these cells. If he had been with his sister in Rialto, it might not have hit him so hard, but he had never seen the inside of a slave ship, none of them had. He had to lean against the wall until the wave of nausea passed. The women were opening cells, Trix would run in and check faces, Marta started sending out healing. Anders stood and stared, if this was what free mages did, he wanted no part of it.

"Gran! Gran! I found him!"

Gracie closed her eyes and sent up a silent prayer of thanks.

"Go and check the other doors." She told Carver. Glad to leave the sights and smells behind him, he went through the next door and found a store room. He didn't think he had ever seen so much lyrium in one place, but he didn't take the time to marvel at it before moving on to the next door. His heart sank when he saw that this one led to more cells, but his dread began to lessen as those he checked were empty, until he came to the cell at the end. A dwarf woman sat oblivious to Carver's approach. Unnaturally thin for a dwarf, she sat mumbling from lips that were cracked and dry. Carver called for Anders, this woman needed healing.

Anders appeared still dragging his captive with him, the man's feet scrabbling to gain purchase on the floor and keep him upright, not keeping upright meant the tightened collar at his neck threatened his ability to breathe.

He turned his head to Anders, thinking no words need to be said for Anders to know why he had called him and saw the flash in his eyes. Anders had gone.

Justice took the man back along the corridor, held up by his collar, his feet still kicking but finding no purchase, his hands clutching at his collar desperate to get some air. Back through the front room he took him through the door leading to the study. Carver ran at his back, but could not do anything as the man was thrown against the wall. A loud crack reverberated around the room and blood sprayed out at the back of the man's head. Carver stared in shock at the slumped body and the trail of blood that ran from the impact point on the wall to the growing pool on the floor. In the moments it took for him to register what he was seeing, Justice had left the room and returned to throw a torch at the pile of papers on the desk. The flames caught quickly.

"What the fuck is going on here?" Gracie screamed as she came behind them both. She took a step back as Justice turned to face her, "Who the fuck are you?"

She didn't wait for an answer and took in the scene in the study. The flames were spreading out fast.

"Oh, you stupid, stupid bastard! Go! Get the kids and get them out of here!"

Carver ran back to Trix and Marta, yelling at them to get themselves and the children out. He grabbed a child in each arm and raced to the outside, placing them none too gently on the ground before running back to grab another two, passing Gracie, Trix and Marta on the way, each with a body clutched to their chests. One more time he returned to grab the last child. Justice stood watching the fire begin to travel up the passageway towards them, the flames finding fuel in the wooden struts and supports, holding the dwarf woman in his arms.

"What are you doing? Get her out of here!"

As the eyes flared, Carver thought he was about to be thrown into the flames, instead Justice turned and headed out. Gracie was waiting at the inner door, as soon as he passed she closed the door and mumbled as she put the magical barrier back in place and did the same again at the outer door.

"Right then." She wiped her hands on her dress and turned to face Justice. "You just get your ethereal arse out of that boy so he can get some healing done."

If the situation hadn't been so dire, Carver would have laughed at the little witch squaring up to the spirit, but all he felt was revulsion as Justice said he couldn't. Anders was too angry.

"Well I can't say I blame him, but just tell him to calm down." Gracie demanded.

Justice shook his head, "It will take some time."

Gracie turned her back on him in disgust. She and Trix held hands and sent their mana to Marta. With Anders there they could have helped the children more, but Marta did what she could. Healing them enough that the group were able to make their way to the gap in the wall where Damian and Duke waited with the rest of the witches.

* * *

><p>"You tell Hawke to send that piece of bronto dung straight to hell and if I can do anything, and I mean <em>anything<em> to help her send him on his way she just has to say the word."

Barzal's face was grim as he spoke to Harral. Trix had called him when they had got back, thinking only that another of her kind might be able to comfort the dwarf woman. Barzal had come with her thinking much the same; he did not expect to find one of his lost sisters. He had recognised her immediately, the youngest, Lenkal, but she did not recognise him. He had broken down, hugging her, willing her to remember him, but she remained unresponsive, continuing to mumble words no one could comprehend.

"Barzal," Marta had said softly, a hand on his shoulder, "I don't know what's wrong with her, if you have any idea, perhaps I could help her."

Marta's words had been like a lifeline, a thread of hope when he thought he had lost it all, wishing that they had not found her, he would rather have gone on searching fruitlessly than to have found this. Wiping away his tears, he looked at his sister, held back the matted hair that covered her face to look in her eyes, then took her hands in his own turning them over and knew the atrocity she had been subject to. The thread of hope died, he doubted Marta would be able to do anything for her.

"She's Lyrium addled, but not in the usual way. Look at the spots of blue in her eyes and her fingernails. She's been made to eat it, a lot of it, over a long time."

"It is not Hawke that I talk to, but I will give Feynriel your message." The tranquil mage had told him before leaving to go to sleep. Barzal never heard him.

Carver and Justice stood at the far back corner of the cargo hold in Charade's ship. They had brought the children here. Eight of them, that's all there were. How many more of them had not made it? Argo had found Orana's Poppa and a few other slaves who insisted on leaving with him. Argo had taken them to his ship to give them a 'proper feedin' up'. It was Gracie who had ordered them to stand where they were, hopeful that Anders would return to his body and help out.

Justice followed Harral with his eyes as he left.

"Leave him alone." Carver warned him.

"It is not I who would do him harm. His presence maintains the anger of Anders and prevents his return. It is Anders who thinks he should be killed, a blessed release from the curse placed upon him. I think instead that his might be an alternative vessel for me. If so, the anger of Anders would be irrelevant and he could perform his healing duties."

"Can you do that? Just leave Ander's body and enter another?"

"I would require his consent."

Carver thinks on what the Spirit is saying. He knew Anders had struggled to keep his temper in check, so that Justice would not come out. He could imagine him squirming somewhere inside his own body, more angry at himself for losing control after so long. Would Anders really want the Spirit gone? Would he agree that it was better for a tranquil mage to be a host than be dead? He had not been happy that his sister had taken a tranquil mage with her on her travels. And what of consent? He had been there when Ander's friend Karl had returned to his untranquil state, he was very different, tranquil Karl was content with his existence, untranquil Karl definitely wasn't. What harm could there be in Justice bringing the real Harral back for a few moments to find out what he wanted to do?

"All right, do this, but I'm coming with you."

"I would appreciate your company. Ander's anger colours my actions. I would have waited until the occupants of the cells were safe before killing their jailor today. I would not want the tranquil mage to die before I gain his agreement to be a host."

Carver does not feel reassured, Justice might regret risking the children's safety, but he had no qualms about the terrible violence he had employed to kill and he was very sure that consent would be given.

"Come, we should hurry, Ander's healing services are required."

"Shouldn't we wait until the messages have been passed on to Feynriel?"

"It wastes time, but if you think this is important I will wait on him waking."

They found Harral already sleeping, at least, Carver hoped it was sleeping. The man lay flat on his back with his eyes closed looking more like a corpse than a man at rest. They both stood watching him. Minutes passed and then Justice flared,

"Hey! He's not awake yet!"

Justice turned to him, "The Dreamer is with him, another opportunity presents itself, that I cannot ignore. Tell Anders he has my thanks."

Carver had to shield his eyes from the glare, when he lowered his arm as the light dissipated it was to see Anders lying on top of Harral, both of them looking at one another, Harral's eyes flooding with tears.

"Are you hurt?" Carver asked Harral as he pulled Anders off him.

"No, I feel...I feel...I FEEL!" he shouted as he sat up and buried his head in his hands crying uncontrollably.

"Anders?" Carver looked as Anders stood with his eyes glazed, clearly in shock. He panicked, he had no idea what was going on and none whatsoever of what he should do. He felt guilty, angry and frustrated; he should have stopped Justice somehow, even if it meant killing Anders. He stuck his head out of the hatch and shouted for help. Damian and Isabella appeared out of the darkness, Dalan and Garp at their heels.

Carver waved them to follow and he took them to where he had left the two men. Harral was still crying loudly, but Anders was rubbing his head now.

Isabella scowled, "What in the name of the Sea Gods have you three been up to? Carver what have you done to them?"

"Me?"

"Yes you, you're the one with the big sword! Did Harral come on to Anders and you got jealous?"

"What?!"

"Well, he's crying and Anders looks disappointed...wait. Is Harral allowed to cry?"

"He can cry as much as he wants." Said Anders, finally coming out of his stupefied state, "He's not tranquil anymore."

"What do you mean? I thought it was pretty much a one way ticket when mages were sent to tranquil land."

Anders put an arm around Harral to try and comfort him, "It is, usually. I heard rumours that they could be brought back, but not like this."

"Is Justice inside him?" Carver asks.

"No, Justice is gone." Anders replies a little sadly.

"Where the hell has he gone? I kind of liked him!" cries Isabella.

Anders sighs, "Back to the Fade I guess. The rumours were that if a demon could be lured from the Fade to enter a tranquil mage, it would reverse the process. I suppose it works the other way too."

"Is he going to stop crying?"

"I hope so. I think that after having no emotions for so long, he's just feeling a little overwhelmed right now. I think it might be something like how you might feel if you had ever gone without sex for a while Isabella."

Damian laughed, "Oh she understands that all right!"

Isabella thumps his chest, "Never mind him. Look Anders, if you are back to yourself you'd better head back to Charade's ship. The wee Witch wants your help. Take him with you; I don't want the sound of his wailing keeping me awake for what's left of the night. Carver, there's a pile of papers I picked up from Lucarius' study. I don't know if they are what you're looking for, but it's a start huh?"

"What else did you pick up?"

"Oh, nothing I'm willing to share right now."

* * *

><p>Hawke woke to find all three slaves standing at her bedside staring at her. It was quite disconcerting considering they usually waited until she opened her eyes before one of them dashed to her side. Having all three of them standing to attention was distinctly strange. She wasn't sure she was ready for whatever this meant, her dreams had been filled with Feynriel freaking out because a spirit had interrupted his briefing with Harral and Fenris becoming paranoid that the spirit had followed him to Hawke's dream. It had taken what seemed like an eternity to calm the pair of them down enough so that she could piece together events from what Feynriel was saying. Even so, she wasn't sure exactly what had happened, the only thing she was sure of was Justice and Anders had something to do with it. Feynriel was afraid Harral was dead and she couldn't reassure him that he wasn't.<p>

"What's up?" she asked the slaves, not really expecting an answer, at least not at the first asking. It usually took her to repeat whatever question she had for them half a dozen times before a whisper of an answer was offered, but today they surprised her.

"You will be leaving, won't you?" said Evi, the smallest elf, the one who reminded her so much of Orana.

"I certainly hope so; I don't want to stay in this place forever."

"Not just here, you will be leaving Minrathous, won't you?" Said Cato the male elf. Hawke was stunned; the question caught her off guard. Suddenly very wide awake and very suspicious she answered with another question; to give a simple yes or no carried so much more weight.

"What makes you think that?"

"You talk in your sleep." Hawke almost felt her thoughts exploding when Cato had spoken. The implications were awful, these three could know everything, and the Divine could know everything. He could be laughing right now at all their antics, playing with them, and just waiting for the right moment to tell her everything she did was in vain. Why had Fenris never told her she did this? She could feel panic rising before her sensible head switched on and told her to stop being so stupid and think. If they were spying on her, why tell her she talked in her sleep? They could just be terrible spies, but she didn't think so.

"What if I said I did intend to leave Minrathous?"

The three looked at each other and nodded, before Mina whispered,

"We want you to take us with you."

Did any of those three realise the power they held over her right now? They could cover themselves in their own bodily waste and demand she clean them up with her tongue and she would do it. As long as they didn't breathe a word of what they knew to anyone else.

"I suppose if I refuse, you'll go straight to the Argent Spire and reveal all."

All three of them looked at her in horror. Hawke frowned; she couldn't believe the thought hadn't entered their heads.

"Look, you have information that could likely buy your freedom and set you up comfortably for the rest of your lives if you used it properly. Why are you telling me this, when I could just twiddle my fingers and turn you to ashes in an instant and why would you want to go where I go? It usually means getting into trouble that's not always good for your health."

"Please Mistress, let me help you dress and I will show you." Evi said and for once Hawke acquiesced and allowed her to attend to her needs.

Evi led her down to the basement floor, to one of the unlit empty store rooms. She pressed a small lump in the stonework and the centre of the rear wall slid out and to the side revealing nothing but darkness. Evi held out her hand for Hawke to take and lead her into the black emptiness.

"Don't you think we should take a torch with us?"

"I know the way." Said Evi.

Hawke grimaced, "I think I would be a lot more comfortable if I could see what I'm walking into." A magelight winked into existence above her head." For the first time Hawke saw Evi smile and wondered how often she had had to walk through this passage with nothing to light her way. She must have been terrified every time she did.

It wasn't a passage that was through the gap in the wall, they were straight into a large room with all the accoutrements that a torture chamber required. Doors led off to other passages with dungeons and cells.

"So this is where they are, I knew no self-respecting palace would be without them. Look! They've even got some skeletons."

Evi walked straight through until they reached the far end of the palace prison and a heavy wooden door which she swung open with ease.

"Evi, before we go any further, will I have to fight darkspawn, demons, walking skeletons, bandits, golems, spiders or any generally nasty creatures to get where we're going?"

"No."

"Well, that'll make a nice change."

Evi was right, they met nothing untoward as they travelled along, and the passages reminded Hawke of the underside of Kirkwall, hardly surprising as both cities were built by the same people. They passed many other openings that Evi walked by without a glance. Hawke cursed inside, if she had known about this she could have got out of the palace any time she wanted without upsetting the Templars. There was an underground to Minrathous, just as there was to Kirkwall, she was sure these tunnels ran the entire length and breadth of Minrathous and no doubt beyond as well. She wondered if there were parts of the tunnels that were as lively and interesting as Kirkwall's were, thriving with a black market or loaded with the poor and homeless.

"Evi, does anyone else come down here?"

"No, only slaves." She said quietly. Hawke caught the tone of sadness in her voice.

"Why only slaves?"

"It's easy to get lost. In some passages there are...things that live here, if you get lost, they might find you."

"I thought you said I wouldn't have to fight anything down here?"

"You would be dead before you could fight them. Don't worry mistress, we won't get lost."

Maybe it was better that she didn't know about this place sooner after all.

It seemed to take a long time before Evi turned into a tunnel that had a gradual slope leading upward and Hawke knew their destination couldn't be far off. Just as a speck of light appeared Evi stopped.

"Please mistress, put out the light and stay quiet. This is a special place for slaves, if the priests find out about it..."

The magelight disappears. Once her eyes have adjusted Hawke can just make out Evi in the pale light and follows her up towards it.

The tunnel came to an end; a small barred window looked out at ground level on a small garden. Hawke could see only one door in the walls surrounding it, but there were other barred windows also at ground level dotted around and in the centre an ancient tree. It was small; its roots unable to spread too far, so it was stunted in its growth, but Hawke recognised it. A Vhenadahl, a tree of the people. The same kind of tree that grew in the Alienage back in Kirkwall.

"Where are we?" Hawke whispered.

"Under the Argent Spire."

"You're kidding! What is a Vhenadahl doing here?"

"I do not know what a Vhenadahl is."

"The tree Evi, it's an elven tree." Evi put a finger to Hawke's mouth, warning her to stay quiet as the sound of voices came through the door. Hawke nearly shouted out when she saw who the voices belonged to, but managed to emit only a squeak. It was Alano and Varania and other of the elven children following behind. Her eyes pleaded with Evi to let her talk to them, but Evi shook her head, begging her not to give them away, the reason clear when a priest walked into the garden also. Hawke couldn't stand it, to have them so close, yet able to say nothing. Where was Fenris? He had to be close, her eyes filled with tears and she could bear it no longer and started moving back down the tunnel, Evi following. When she felt the wall end, she sat down, knowing this was the point the tunnel began and was far enough back that her crying would not be heard.

"Mistress?" Evi's concerned voice came out of the darkness.

"Why Evi? Why show me that when I could do nothing and say nothing?"

"I am sorry Mistress, but you wanted to know why we want to leave with you."

"How does that explain?"

Hawke heard Evi take a deep breath before beginning her story, down in the complete darkness of the tunnels under Minrathous.

"It is said that under the tree lie the bones of Shartan. The slave who fought with Andraste. The slaves who know the tunnels come here when they can. We can never enter the garden and touch the tree that has been fed with the bones, but there are other tunnels that all lead to the edge, some feel closer than others. We find comfort here. Some think about a free life, some wish to be sold and find a new master, but most just look to find the will to get through another day. There are those who say that one day Shartan will return to free us all. When your slaves were sent here, we thought it a sign that the day of Shartan's return is closer.

There are the seven sorrows of slaves:

The sorrow of freedom denied

The sorrow of a lost past

The sorrow of a future unfulfilled

The sorrow of no hope

The sorrow of children taken from us

The sorrow of a death never to be remembered

The sorrow of love never shown

Seven children were sent here, none of them have been touched by the seven sorrows. You talked in your sleep of taking them back. We would go with you to where they go and not know sorrow again."


	16. Chapter 16

"Fucking Shut Up!"

Gracie's voice bellowed out over the cacophony that was the cargo hold of the Song of the Spellweaver. Trix had stayed with the children and Lenkal on Charade's ship, but almost everyone else from the five ships was crammed in and the arguing had gone on for over an hour with no resolution. The little woman had clambered up to stand on a large crate in the centre to shout out and only just managed to be looking down on them. Well, most of them, not Damian, she still had to look up a little for him. Slowly the noise died.

"That's better. Now these stupid Games start tomorrow and we have to figure out a way to help the lass and get everyone back here so we can get to fuck out of this God forsaken place."

"Who put you in charge?" challenged Isabella.

"I did! I didn't see you getting all these noisy bastards to put a sock in it and get some proper decisions made!" Gracie retorted back, eyes blazing and hands on her hips.

Isabella folded her arms and turned her back, unwilling to admit that Gracie was right. On her ship she could shout and roar and have her crew dance to her tune without question, but this...this was too big. There were too many people who were not part of her crew, too many people who had their own ideas of what to do and too many who knew that her ability to make good decisions stopped as soon as she had solid ground under her feet.

Gracie relents a little, "Ach, don't get your knickers in a twist lass. We all know if your little Hawke were here, there'd be none of us fighting. But she ain't, so we'll just have to make do."

Rumbles of agreement roll around the deck and Isabella turns back to give Gracie a nod. There were others who might have pulled the rabble together, but none with Gracie's ability to bully them into submission and if she was honest, the little witch had proved herself with the raid on the estate.

"Good. Right then, Argo? Get over here and tell us what you found out so far." The little man walks over to the crate, a roll of paper clutched in one hand and offering the other to help Gracie down from her perch. Damian steps in, frowning at Argo, knowing his help will be useless, and holds Gracie under her arms then lifts her down from the crate. Argo shrugs and looks round at everyone,

"First thing, it's only finger twiddlers that be fightin' and only them as has signed up for it. Each o' them fights is goin' to be nasty; they won't be takin' no prisoners. There's been enough as has signed up that the fightin' is prob'ly going to go on for three days. Only when that's done will Missy Hawke and t'other bastard," Argo stops to spit, "gets to shootin' magic shit at each other."

"Three days?" says Anders with concern, "That's a long time of people killing each other."

"Yup, that it is. The Tevinters are a bloodthirsty bunch o' bastards, no mistake. If'n you want to take the time, there be lists of the folk that are participatin' posted at the circles. Looks like they want to get the bettin' started early. Now there be rules to the fightin': only the two as is goin' to be zapping each other in the arena when the fightin' starts, no helpin' from anyone else, and no stoppin' 'til one of 'em ain't breathin' any more".

"Argo, do you know what happens if someone does help out?" Pauli spoke from the back.

"Not right sure, boy, but a lot o' them Templars will be kickin' about, they might step in. My guess is that all them folks that 'as been bettin' will stop it quick. Bookmen won't pay out if match is interrupted."

Argo stops to unfurl the roll of paper on top of the crate which shows his charcoal drawing of the layout of the arena.

"This place is big, make no mistake, a few thousand bodies can be fitted in here." He points to the circle in the centre and then moves his finger in circles out to the edge as he explains. "Fightin' arena in the middle, Templars stand at edges, first rings round only mages that ain't fightin' and want to watch can stand 'ere. Next rings out fer highfalootin' folks as want to watch, next tier out is for the poor folks. Folks as is fightin' are kept outta sight below decks so to speak, except for Missy Hawke and the bastard." Argo spits again. "'Cos it's to be a special fight, them two will be on display, to wet the crowd's appetite, stop the crowds from losin' anticipation like. They'll be on either side of the black fella who'll be sittin' here with his minions in a fancy bit set aside for the bigwigs."

"What about Fenris and the rest of them, do you know where they'll be?" Carver asked.

"None too clear on that one boy. Likely the lad will be on display, a lot 'o folks is keen to see the slave that ran away and he's the reason for the big fight. As for the kids and that, I don't know, but the shindig lastin' so long should give us time to place 'em."

"Any more questions for Argo?" Gracie looks round, but no one speaks. "Good. First things first, all of us that can use magic are going to be in that arena from day one. Agreed?"

The 'ayes' of agreement call out from those from Seere and Anders and Harral.

"Our job is simple, don't be watching the fighting. We watch the people watching. Find out where trouble will be coming from if it comes. When it gets to the lass's fight I don't want too many surprises stopping us from doing what we're going to do."

"Just what are we going to do?" Anders asks her.

"Nothing too specific lad. We gather together in a spot as close to the lass as we can and start sharing the mana, ready to fire it out where it's needed. You and Harral got the knack of it yet?"

Anders looks at Harral and grins, "Oh yes!"

"Don't be too cocky lads, none of us have done much of the firing it out. If we can find and get the lass Varania pulled into the chain, leave her to do the directing, if not, Marta is the one who can do it best, so keep your focus on her." Gracie gives them a nod and then pushes the lid off the crate. Her eyes look round until they find Carver, "Little brother, you and a few others can get into these," Carver steps forward to peer into the crate to see Templar armour piled up inside.

"Where did you get this?"

Argo pipes up, a smug little grin on his face, "Cap'n ain't the only one as is good at sneakin' and stealin'."

"I'll be going with you." Charade steps forward.

"And me." Says Damian. Josson and three others of Isabella's crew stepping towards Carver.

"Sol!" Gracie screeches out, glaring at the boy standing as far back as he can, "You sorry excuse for a grandson, get your arse over here and stand with them, you're going too."

Everyone turns to see the look of abject fear on his face, "Gran?"

"Don't argue unless you want another whippin' from the pirate!"

Carver is none too sure whether Sol will be an asset, but he recognises the faith that Gracie has placed in him. She might berate her grandson and humiliate him in public, but that is Gracie's way, she's still angry with him now but she loves the boy and would not see him harmed.

"You have a plan for us?" Carver asks.

"Beyond getting as close as you can to your sister? No. I would just feel better with a bunch of friends who know how to use a weapon in there at my back. You want to make plans sonny, you go ahead."

"What about me, witch? My blades not good enough to have at your back?" Isabella hisses at Gracie. She might have been willing to concede to Gracie's better talents at organising, but not if they didn't include her. Gracie cackles back at her.

"Oh I think your blades might be handy, but there are some others who need them more than me." Gracie leans on the rim of the crate, her face turning grim, "Get the elves and get them to the ships. If the lass can't win this fight and we fail, that bastard will have them and kill them. I won't let that happen."

Isabella nods, appreciating the challenge Gracie has set her. Gracie's grandson had been in as bad a state as Alano had been when they had found him. She was the one who had persuaded Hawke to bring the children to Minrathous; she was to be the one who made sure they got out. She owed it to Gianna and Hawke to get them back where they belonged.

"We'll go with you." Said the old elf who had been watching from the sidelines, "My daughter's with them." Orana's Poppa stood with the other slaves who had come with him from the estate, all of them staring intently at Isabella with their fists clenched, gathering their courage to disobey and go against all they had been trained to do since the day they were born.

"You have got to be kidding Poppa!" Isabella laughed, "Look at you, skin and bone, not a spare ounce of flesh between you! Have you ever even held a weapon in your hand? What use could you possibly be? No, I think it would be better if you stayed here."

Poppa stood firm, his face set, "I have been a slave all my life my only task to do my Master's bidding. Now I am free and for the first time I can make my own choice about what I do. I choose to find my daughter."

Isabella bites her tongue. How can she deny this man who stands with quiet dignity and determination? The five of them stand before her, freedom so fresh to them they haven't even changed out of their clothes to look like free men. The only thing they are good at is being slaves. Of course! No one questions what a slave is up to; everyone assumes they are simply doing what their master has asked of them. A sly grin comes over Isabella's face; perhaps they could be useful after all.

"Argo! Can you steal me some priest robes? I would do it myself, but I made a promise to someone." She says leering at Damian.

"Already done Cap'n." Argo states, fishing out the clothing from under the armour in the crate, "I knows how you like to have these handy."

"Well I'm glad you sorted that out. Anyone else want in on the action?" Gracie scans the faces, but no one speaks up. "Good, now what about getting the fuck out of this place?"

Barzal steps forward with Cavall and Lipiz, "That'll be our job."

"Oh Barzal! You clever little dwarf, did you get the powder?" Isabella asks him excitedly.

"Not enough for the explosive exit we hoped for, but enough that no ship will be able to follow us for long. Our green friends will see to that."

* * *

><p>Hawke sat in the half light that heralded the coming dawn. She had been escorted here in the dark, to sit on the most uncomfortable wooden chair with Evi, Cato and Mina sitting at her feet and had watched as the tiers of the amphitheatre had filled up with the shadows of the spectators. No one wanting to miss out on the start of the games. From sunrise to sunset the mages would fight, the Divine had told her on his last visit the evening before. This was the tradition of the Games.<p>

He was so confident in his assumptions of her; the visit had not lasted long. All along he had assumed she had come here to become a magister and keep her child safe from the clutches of the Chantry. He assumed she wanted no more power than that, else why run from Kirkwall where she could have gathered mages around her for her own army. He assumed she was a willing participant in his plans to gather mages to rally round his cause. He assumed she had no love for her slaves, he assumed they_ were_ slaves. His assumptions had kept her free from suspicion that she might have come here for other reasons and she had given him no reason to think his assumptions were incorrect.

Lucarius had asked that all her slaves be brought to the amphitheatre. He wanted to be able to claim them all as soon as he had dispatched of her. She didn't object. She wanted to see them again, wanted them close that she could get them out of here as soon as she had dispatched of him. If she could. The doubts started creeping in again. How powerful a mage was he? Danarius had wielded a lot of power, but he had a pack of demons with him, how like the father was the son? Would she be able to kill him? Every time she had fought before it had been spontaneous; people attacked her, she attacked back. Never had she deliberately walked into a fight with the outright intention of ending someone's life. She had also never entered a fight without friends to help out. Except for when she had fought the Arishok of course, but he was all brute strength and speed, all she had to do was slow him down, step out his way when he charged and fire a few lightning bolts at him. He did not fight back with magic. Could she do this on her own? Feynriel had assured her that when the time came Lucarius would be cut off from his demon friend, his the only help she could count on. She knew the others would most likely be out there, but since Feynriel couldn't make himself heard in any of their dreams, she had no idea what they would be doing.

So many people were taking their places in the arena, if any of her friends were among them, she could not pick them out. The Divine sat a small distance from her to her right in his great ornate throne. Quiet and still, he was waiting for the sun to rise and the first rays to shine on him. Very dramatic. On his right sat Lucarius, scribbling furiously on notepaper as he glanced up frequently at Fenris and the others in the cage in front of them, already he was planning what he was going to do with them. Fenris stood straight in the cage, his eyes fixed on a spot at the furthest end of the arena. His wrists and ankles had been enclosed in great iron manacles. Her heart ached to see him like this. He would have looked glorious were it not for those chains. The sword his father had given him been stuck to his back, the Divine had glued it there with a spell, why risk removing weapons when they could be rendered useless? Besides, he had been created to be a bodyguard, why not have him look like one? A prize worth fighting for the Divine had said. Varania and Orana were comforting the children, encouraging them to be good and sit still, reassuring them that it would not be much longer and everything would be all right. She could only hope that their words were true. Hamahakis sat on the ground, staring through the bars like Fenris; both of them she realised were doing their best to look like slaves, but meditating, preparing themselves to take advantage of the first opportunity that came their way.

Behind the Divine's throne sat the larger and much more impressive throne of the Archon. Templars standing behind and to the sides of him. The man sat with the same glazed look on his face that Hawke had seen from the first moment she had set eyes on him. Magisters spread out on each side in little enclosures sheltered from the sun by canvas canopies. No impressive looking thrones for them, they sprawled out on couches, directing slaves in putting out food and wine on small tables in front of them and waving great fans to keep them cool. Hawke caught sight of Lucressia talking with others in her enclosure before the woman caught sight of her and gave her a malevolent glare. There were hundreds of Magisters, moving about the enclosures, chatting to each other with a forced polite civility. Hawke could see there was a form of ranking that could be discerned by observing the enclosures. How close they were to the Archon throne, their size, how many people visited each enclosure, how many slaves were in attendance. She spotted Feynriel following behind a man who must be his sponsor; he looked different from his appearance in her dreams, pale and tired, and dark circles evident around his eyes. The waking Dreamer looked as though he didn't get enough sleep.

In the rest of the arena people were packed close together, the only seating available to them the stone steps that rose from the large sand circle in the centre. A great roar sounded out as the first sliver of the sun's rays reached through the gap of the only entrance and the Games began.

The central area where the fighting took place was sunk into the ground, lined with wooden panels, slightly glimmering from the barriers already in place. The first row of people who stood to look down inside were all Templars, ready to negate any magic that came beyond the edges. A man in priest robes walked to the centre and shouted two names. From opposite sides of the ring, panels slid open and the contestants stepped out as the priest stepped back to disappear through another one.

"Begin." A voice called out. For a moment the two just looked at each other, and then as the audience started to jeer at them, the first mage sent out a tentative force spell. The second staggered back before catching his balance and sent out a bolt of lightning. The first jumped as it caught him and retaliated with a less tentative force spell which sent the second flying backwards to ram into the wooden panels, winded, he was too slow to defend himself and the first sent out yet another force spell which again sent the second banging against the panels, this time his body fell twitching on the ground, the blood from his cracked skull spilling and soaking into the sand. The priest walked out to confirm the second mage was dead and raised the arm of the first mage in victory. The mage looked dazed as if he couldn't quite take in what he had done and blankly looked at the cheering crowds around the tiers.

"Who claims this mage?" the priest shouted out. Hawke looked round at the shaking heads; no magister saw fit to sponsor this mage. "The Spire would have this one." The Divine's voice called out to the gasps of the audience. Hawke knew that with or without her the Divine would have his mage army and he had just enrolled his first recruit.

All day the bouts continued. Most of them were short and over quickly. Few victors were chosen by Magisters, but all who weren't were accepted by the Chantry. Hawke found herself sickened as the carnage went on. The mages were weak, their energy depleted by weeks of running and then more time spent just keeping alive waiting for these Games to start. The spectators loved it, their bloodlust rising with each death, cheering as mages were burnt, electrocuted, desiccated, petrified, frozen or lifted into the air and dropped to fall on the ground to the sound of their bones cracking. One mage gained a particularly loud cheer when her mind blast caused her opponent's head to explode in a spray of blood, bone and brains.

One match was interrupted by the cry of a mage from the crowd, unwilling to watch his loved one begin to succumb to the magical blasts sent out by their opponent, he had sent out a healing spell out over the heads in front of him. The spell never reached its target as Templars soaked up the magic long before. The crowd around him surged and he was dead by the blows of their fists in seconds. Two Templars were sent to the combatants and both had their throats cut before they had time to protest. The message was clear; no assistance was to be given.

By the afternoon, the crowd became rowdier and shouts of 'use your blood' started sounding out. The first mage to pull out a blade and cut their wrist got such rapturous applause that Hawke could feel the ground vibrating beneath her from the stamping and jumping. It didn't matter that he died when his opponent took advantage of the pause he had taken to draw his own blood and sent ethereal daggers through his heart, never to know if using blood magic would have given him the victory he needed. The next mage to try it had the sense to put up a barrier first before cutting themselves, their face twisting into joyous agony as they felt the sudden boost and sent out such a blast of cold that their adversary fell to the ground and shattered, ice crystals spraying out what was left of him. More and more clashes from then on saw mages firing out spells at each other, blood spilling from their arms.

The sun set and the fighting stopped at last. Hawke was escorted back to the palace. Evi, Cato and Mina were all trying to persuade her to eat when the Divine arrived and shooed them away.

"Did the games not entertain you?"

Hawke wanted to scream at him and tell him to shove his games up his arse. Instead she kept all her thoughts to herself and tried to keep her face from revealing her emotions.

"Why have the games at all? If you were just going to recruit mages for the spire, why did you not make the offer when they arrived in the city? This way you lose many potential recruits and the Magisters pick off the ones with any real talent."

"Only the most desperate signed up for this. Them, I can afford to lose. Those with significant talent are in the audience. It is not just mages raw out of Circles that arrive here. Many are experienced and talented. There are even a few senior enchanters. They do not waste their time trying to find a sponsor; they seek Magistry in their own right. As do you. They are slow to trust a Chantry again. The Games demonstrate the support the Chantry can give them. If you win your duel, they will flock to me, willing to trust a Chantry that also supports the one who started their war."

"And if I lose, the Archon takes the blame."

"Of course."

The second day of the Games differed little from the first, only there was more evidence of blood magic and deals having been struck with demons overnight. Hawke's focus was not on what was happening in the ring. Fenris had not come to her dream in the short time she had slept the night before. She knew it was because he hadn't slept. Without the nightly reassurance from him that she had had for the last few weeks she was worried. Feynriel had not found his way to her either which had added to her feeling of isolation. Those in the cage looked the same as they had the day before, but she sensed something was different. Evi had told her they had had not been returned to the Spire, so they had been left in the cage.

"Evi, is it possible for you to talk with Varania?"

The elf nodded and walked over to the cage to where Varania sat and the two of them whispered before Evi walked back. Hawke held her breath the whole time, sure that someone would stop her or chide her for attempting contact with them, but no one did. She thought they must have been watching the slaughter too intently to have noticed what she was doing, but Evi looked at her curiously when she saw her anxiety.

"Mistress, it is your right to inquire of their welfare."

Hawke took a deep breath and nodded to Evi to relate what Varania had told her feeling foolish that she did not know more of Tevinter ways.

"She said a pirate had visited them during the night."

Hawke gave a small smile. It could only be Isabella. What was she doing sneaking around in this place at night? It didn't matter; Varania's message told her that their friends were at hand. Somehow they would get out of this mess. She looked over to Varania who jerked her head and prompted her eyes to look to the tiers. Through the mass of Magisters and their slaves she saw what Varania had wanted her to see. Trix was jumping up and down and waving, the only member of the crowd not facing the ring. The moment she was sure Hawke had seen her, Gracie had grabbed Trix and pulled her down to her seat. Hawke started scanning the hordes of faces, searching for familiar features. It was difficult to identify anyone in the sea of seething, cheering bodies, but as her gaze passed the Templars standing at the edge she recognised the unmistakeable body shape of Damian, standing to attention amongst the rest of them. Although she found no more, the searching distracted her from the dreadful scenes at the centre and the rising feelings of guilt that it was her fault that mages had come here to die.

The third day dawned with an atmosphere of expectancy. The crowds were less enthusiastic about the matches being fought in the morning. Heads kept turning to look at those on either side of the Divine, losing their interest in what was happening in the centre and waiting with anticipation for the battle that was to come. Their bloodlust had not lessened, but they were becoming bored with the repetitive slaughter and were looking for more. They wanted a show, a true battle of mage craft, a spectacle of magical prowess, spells thrown in the full light of day, confirmation that the ways of Tevinter were what the Maker intended and they wanted a death, one that came not after a few minutes from weak mages, one that came after the full gauntlet of magical spells had been run through, one that showed the true might and power of the Magister and reminded them that the Tevinter Imperium would one day cover the world.

'No pressure then.' Hawke thought. 'Just conquer Lucarius and the crowd at the same time and we can all walk out of here to the sound of the cheering masses.'

The last match was over with barely one witness to see the mage fall. All eyes were turned to where Hawke and Lucarius sat. The noonday sun high in the sky belting down its heat on everyone in the Amphitheatre.

The Archon rose slowly from his throne to stand perfectly still. In the now silent amphitheatre his monotone voice could be heard all the way to the furthermost tier.

"The estate of Danarius, late Magister of the Tevinter Imperium is in contention. Magister Lucarius claims it by right of inheritance. The Mistress Hawke claims it by right of victory. By Imperial law the dispute will be resolved with a trial of magical combat. The true claimant to be determined by survival. The false claimant to be determined by death. Are there any to contest this claim?" with none who answered the question in the pause that followed, the Templars at his side broke away, each side moved to Lucarius and Hawke to escort them down the tiers and into the arena. Hawke stood up and removed the robe that Evi had persuaded her to wear each day of the Games. The stupid thing was of no use to her now. There were a few 'Ooohs' at the revelation of her extended stomach under the leather fringe of her armour, but she didn't care that all knew of it now. Tying up her hair with a leather thong she moved toward the cage to stand in front of Fenris, ignoring the rumblings of the Templars put out at her straying from the path down the tiers. Damned if she was going to die today without one last kiss, one last touch, one last look in those green eyes she had lost herself in all those years ago.

As they kissed through the bars she felt the spell holding his sword to his back and unwound the magic, oblivious to the catcalls around her.

"Is this wise Hawke?" Fenris whispered.

"Probably not, but this wolf needs to be free. The chains are yours to deal with."

"Not quite the same as the Gallows is it?"

"The promise remains."

As she walked the rest of the way down, she heard the crowd shouting out, not all of it bad. Kissing a slave in public had not done as much harm as she thought, but winning the crowd over was not her purpose here.

She could feel how much the sun had heated the sand through the soles of her boots. The air here was filled with the salty iron smell of the blood that had been spilled and she could taste it on her tongue. Hawke watched as Lucarius edged his way around the sand, reaching back to pull his staff out and wave it in front of him. He looked confident, sure of his own ability. Her shields were up, let him start this she thought, let me gauge what he has. It was a risk; he may have more than she could possibly know, enough to pour all he had into one spell that would wipe her out in an instant. She pulled her own staff forward and twirled it in one hand before standing with it upright at her side and waited.

Silence filled the arena as all held their breath, anticipating the display. The dry heat of the noonday sun beating down on them, doing nothing to dampen the expectant hush. Lucarius swept his head around the rapt faces of the audience, drinking in the sight of all eyes focussed on him. The man could sense Hawke's hesitation to begin the proceedings and took advantage of it sending a wave of cool air around the arena, no doubt thinking to sway the crowd in their support of him in his demonstration of his ability to ease their discomfort in the heat. The Templars did nothing to stop his magic reaching out beyond the bounds of the fighting enclosure and Hawke knew that for this battle at least one of the rules had changed.

Lucarius walked slowly around her, his mouth twitching with a malevolent smile. His feelings of hate towards her were almost palpable, but she could not take her eyes off him for a moment as she waited for him to make the first move. Behind him flames lit up in his footsteps creating a circle of fire as his path took him full circle around her. He held out his hand and sparks lit up and flew out from his palm,

"It's a pity you killed my father and I am forced to seek vengeance, you would have made a very nice trinket to adorn my estate." He hisses, still walking slowly round, ignoring the oohs and ahhs of the people watching, impressed by the gradual revealing of his magical talents.

"I'm sure I would," Hawke replied, "But it was not me that killed your father."

She feels the inward sense of satisfaction of seeing the slight falter in his step at her words. He thought to augment his magical baiting of her with verbal needling, only to have it backfire and she took even more satisfaction from the effect her next words had on him.

"His little wolf bit back."

Lucarius stopped confusion clear across his features as he digests what she is saying. Before he can fully register the meaning, she sends out another verbal shard,

"Don't let that hold you back though, I did help."

Lucarius gives her the reaction she intended as his face reddens and his anger becomes apparent. A lightning bolt develops from the sparks in his hand and blasts off her shield to flare harmlessly in the sand. This only feeds his anger more and a sudden barrage of bolts fire in Hawke's direction, all of them bouncing off to land at the feet of Templars who flinch, realising the false sense of confidence the previous magical sparring of mages had given them. This was magic beyond their ability to deflect.

Hawke's shield holds easily and his outpouring of magic has told her what she needed to know. The man was powerful, but not as powerful as she feared. That did not mean she could sit back and twiddle her fingers at him and he would fall down dead at her feet without her having to break a sweat. She hoped that Feynriel could do as he said and keep his demon detached, the man's innate abilities were strong, perhaps not as strong as her own, but if he had a demon at his back to boost him, she could not hope to survive this day. As it was, she would need to keep her head about her, her father had continually warned her that even those with a bare scrap of magical ability could topple the most powerful if they used it wisely, one had only to look to Templars to figure that out.

The audience had started to warm to the display. Shouting out at her to fight back and show them what she had. Hawke was not sorry to disappoint them, they might be expecting more from The Champion of Kirkwall, but she wasn't about to give some ostentatious show of magic just to please them, she had never used it simply to entertain. Lucarius had no such reservations, angry at her revelations and keen to have the crowd adore him, he put forth his hand, black smoky tendrils issuing from the tips of his fingers, swirling and coalescing into the shapes of dragons, their wings spreading out and setting off to fly over their heads, belching out red smoke. They flew out beyond the boundary of the arena to swoop and glide over the heads of the cheering spectators, before all at once, the smoke dragons rose up, and their wings outspread. Their eyes started shining and together they all headed towards Hawke, roaring, the red smoke issuing from their throats turning to real flames as they rushed towards her. Hawke raised her hands to send out a blast of cold air around her, it didn't require much mana as the dragons looked worse than they were. The only threat they posed was in their fire and the cold air stilled it and swept out to dissipate the smoke and the dragons were gone. Hawke knew how little mana it had cost Lucarius to create the illusion and wasn't fooled that he might have weakened to any great extent, but he had won over the easily impressed crowd and their support would only bolster him.

"You lie Hawke!" Lucarius spat at her, "You think to trick me into believing such rubbish. What do I care how my father died? If that slave was the weapon you wielded, it matters not. I will have him!"

He pulled out the small blade from under his sleeve and slashed his forearms. The blood poured down to cover his hands as he put out his arms and began his incantation. Hawke felt the rumble at her feet and could see the small grains of sand dancing as the earth started shifting. Too late she realised her mistake. The man might not have his demon to call on, but the blood would still give his magic more potency and it wasn't only his own blood he called on. Rising from the sand the red ooze came up, all the blood that had been spilled over the last few days rose and snaked towards Lucarius, pooling at his feet and rising to meet the dripping from his arms. Then she saw the dead themselves rising, pulling themselves up from the sand they had been abandoned under. How many people had died in this arena only to be left where they had fallen? How many souls were available for Lucarius to resurrect and guide to ensure she joined them? Some of them were skeletal with scraps of black, long decayed skin attached to their grey bones; others were like shadows, the ashes of their remains gathering together into a form that moved towards her. All of them wailed at being pulled from their resting place to die all over again at the behest of another mage. Each one headed towards her, intent on ending her life so they would be allowed to return to the quiet emptiness. Hawke started firing out fireballs and walls of magic force to stop them getting near her, her staff twirling around with her in a none too graceful dance of death. Isabella had been right to warn her of how an extended belly would disrupt your balance. Wave after wave they came. It was easy enough to begin with, but for each one of the creatures she thought she had sent back to the fade another would rise. From all sides they came, dragging their carcasses towards her in ever increasing numbers. Too slowly she realised that any she blasted back were just being brought forth again by Lucarius, he had a never ending supply of undead to send against her. This could not go on, her mana was draining and she was tiring, even if she brought forth all that was in the magestones in her gloves it would never be enough to stop this. Lucarius would not run out before her, blood was still rising from the sand towards him to feed his magic and more and more remains were crawling up to join the small army that was hell bent on sucking the life from her. The bastard was just beginning to find his stride as she was losing hers. Drawing on the magestones she gathered the mana for a final push and sent out a wall of force that cleared a ring around her. Bones and ashes crashed into the Templars at the edges and she saw Lucarius stagger enough to disrupt his concentration and in that moment of respite Hawke felt in a pocket and drew out the throwing star and sent it flying to embed itself in his throat.

Hawke didn't hear the roar of the crowd. Her legs gave under her and she knelt in the sand, her eyes closed and aware only of the beat of her heart and the breath she inhaled to try and slow it down. The kick she felt in her stomach brought her back, a child disgruntled that its slumber had been disturbed. She looked over at Lucarius' now still body, blood still seeping from the gash at his neck. The man could have saved himself if he had been able to heal himself, but healing was not a branch of magic the man had any talent in, his use of the blood of the dead attested to that. She wasn't sure whether outside assistance was a rule that remained or just that Lucarius had no friends prepared to assist him. Right now it was a moot point, the man was dead. No more children would be lost to him. No lingering feelings of guilt or sadness would she feel at the taking of this life.

* * *

><p>Lucressia sighed. The Divine looked far too smug. There was more to this clash than she knew and that was unbearable. He had plans and she was not part of them. She never was. She doubted if those given the dubious honour of a seat in the senate even knew. Her own plans had gone sadly awry. She would have been willing to put up with the mockery that was the rule in Tevinter for a bit longer if she had acquired that slave, but that black robed bastard had taken that possibility from her. The little witch that had just won her place as a magister would never let him go now, though after watching her kiss him she doubted she would have relinquished him before anyway. She was willing to bet that that child she was carrying was his, she couldn't blame her for that, she wasn't the first magister that had succumbed to the charms of a slave, but this slave should have been hers. What was it about him that made his masters so possessive? Danarius hadn't been willing to share either. Damn, but she wasn't about to let him slip through her fingers again, not when this chance was staring her in the face, besides, the Divine was obviously ready to make this little bitch his new protégé now that that fool Lucarius was dead, it would be so sweet to put a spanner in the works of his plans, whatever they might be.<p>

Carver had stood at the sidelines of the arena for the last three days; most of the time scared half out of his wits. It had been easy for them to slip in with the arena Templars. All of them were recruits, sent to the arena to hone what little skills they had, most of them young boys and girls, but who could tell who was who once the helmets were on and all you could see of someone was their eyes through the slit. His father was the one who had given him the amulet that allowed him to resist magic when he was young, just in case his sister's magic got out of hand when they were learning. It was more than what most of these lads and lasses had.

His heart had fallen when he saw his sister, this was not the family reunion he had anticipated and seeing Fenris in a cage with chains dripping from him had not made it any better. Gracie had left him to make what plans he wanted, but what could he do in the face of this? He knew where the others were placed, ready to step in, but he had no idea when would be the right time or how far they would get before they would inevitably be overwhelmed. Damian had been at a loss to help him out, pirate raids on ships he could do, this was far beyond his ability to lead. The mage fights had not helped to clarify what part they could play. He had known the difficulties mages had endured, but this place where they were supposedly free was possibly worse than what they had in the rest of Thedas. This was not freedom, the only ones who had any power or control over their lives were the Magisters and they blatantly abused what they had. Was this what mages would always do given the chance? End up fighting each other? Watching the slaughter it was easy to forget how the Grey Wardens had worked, mage, warrior, thief, elf, human, dwarf, it did not matter, they worked together, the Joining the great leveller. Was that the price that had to be paid for harmony?

He could only watch in horror as his sister's battle had unfolded and stand impassive as bones and ashes had headed towards him. Of all the magical abilities he thought necromancy was the worst, too close to creating Darkspawn and bringing any mage who used it closer to being an Archdemon. She had won the battle and relief had flowed through him, with luck, they had only to wait and watch as everyone left the arena with no more bloodshed.

Anders had never had so many of his beliefs shattered and broken in such a short time. Tevinter was nothing like he had thought it would be. The feeling of elation he had when Justice had left had been tempered by the sudden feeling of emptiness and loneliness that had accompanied it. Then there was Harral. That he had been instrumental in having a mage brought back from the realms of tranquillity had filled him with pride, but then there had been the guilt and anger: Why had Justice not done this with Karl so long ago? He thought he understood some of what Harral was going through, his own emotions having gone all over the place. The man still cried often and Anders felt a responsibility towards him that he had never felt towards one person before. Then there was the tour de force that was Gracie. The woman was foul mouthed, stubborn, and free with her opinions and bullied them all relentlessly, yet he found himself growing fond of the tough old bitch. She was the one who had taught him how to let go of his own selfish nature and share his magic. He hadn't realised how his own pride and arrogance had stopped him from appreciating the true gift that his magic was. Sitting with the Seere witches and creating the chain of flowing magic between them all was inspiring. He only wished Hawke had figured this out in their days in Kirkwall, he might have found a less destructive way of trying to promote his mages manifesto. Yet Gracie was the one who admired him for what he had done, "Pity you didn't blast more of those stupid bitches to smithereens! When we get back to Seere, show me what you did and we'll blow up that silly Chantry there!" she had cackled long and loudly. The sharing of the magic had done more to help Harral recover than any amount of healing he could have given him.

He had still harboured some hope for the life of a mage in Tevinter when they got to the amphitheatre, but as the fights had started it left him bereft. He had even felt sympathy for Fenris, stuck in his cage, chained up; maybe a slave's life was worse than imprisonment in a Circle. Gracie had sent them all out to mingle with the crowd, instructed to listen to everything while she scouted out the best spot for them to gather should they be needed. He and Harral had found people they knew amongst the crowd, mages who had ran from the chaos, mages who were having second thoughts of the wisdom in coming here, and mages who worried that there was nowhere else to go. Their worries and fears reflected his own. He had come to Minrathous with the full intention of staying and never returning to the Wardens, regardless of his promise to look out for Carver, but as the games had gone on that intention fled his mind. He could never stay in a place where mages behaved like this. This was not what he had destroyed a Chantry for.

As he watched Hawke kneeling in the sand, his heart broke all over again. Gracie had warned them not to interfere with her fight against Lucarius and he had been angry with her. He loved Hawke, had fought with her many times and to see her again and not be able to defend her hadn't felt right. Gracie had given him a ferocious glare, "This is Hawke's fight! We join in; we have no hope of getting out of here alive! We do this the Tevinter way, we wait until they fight dirty!"

"This isn't fighting dirty?" he had asked her incredulously.

"I have a feeling this is just a taste, if we're lucky it'll be as much as we see."

Anders watched as their luck ran out.

Fenris could not watch Hawke fight. She had told him to wait, if she needed him she would pull on the ring. That was the signal for him to do what he must. So he stood with his eyes closed and focussed on his hand...waiting. Either the pull would come or death would come. If he watched he would not wait. His whole world was in the centre of that arena and she had asked him not to defend it. Trust her. It was only that trust that held him back. He allowed the sounds of the crowd and the exclamations of the observers to let him follow what was going on. He wasn't dead when the deafening cheers sounded around him and he knew she had won. He wondered how long it would be before the victory rituals would be done and he would be allowed out of the cage and sighed when the voices behind him told him that it was going to be longer than expected.

"She cheated. That was no spell that killed Lucarius. I claim the right to challenge and reclaim Lucarius' honour."

Lucressia stood in front of the Archon, knowing full well what she did.

"No!" The Divine's voice rang out at her back.

"It is my right, your Grace. Is that not so Archon?"

"It is so Magister." The Archon answered blandly as the black robes swished at her back. Lucressia grinned. For years she had chafed under the Divine's manipulated rule, this was a sweet rebellion, to use the very laws he had twisted to gain power against him. There was the small risk he would get her later and make her tranquil, but she could manage that, for now, in such a public place he could do nothing.

"He cheated also, he used the blood!"

Lucressia waved a dismissive hand at him, "That only makes it worse; she showed nothing of the talent required of a Magister and does not merit the title. I would show all what it truly means!"

"You foolish, foolish woman! Do not do this!" he shouted at her grabbing her arm to turn her and face him.

"Are you going to deny me my right by force?" she said, ensuring her voice carried to all the enclosures where Magisters were now turning their attention to the drama unfolding in front of the Archon's throne.

"If I have to."

"These are the Laws of Tevinter your Grace, would you break them?" The Divine looked round aware of the murmurings of the watching Magisters.

"I would persuade you of the stupidity of your actions." He hissed at her.

"And what if I cannot be dissuaded?"

"You will." He said ominously as he grabbed her hand. Lucressia watched in horror as black tendrils started moving up the skin of her fingers and hand.

"He challenges without authority!" she screamed, pulling her hand from him and holding it up for all to see.

"All challenges must take place in the arena." The Archon interjected, "The authority is given."

Fenris sensed the shock and disbelief in the pause that followed and turned to nod at Hamahakis, who nodded back in silent agreement, the time for waiting was over.

"I gave no challenge! Your authority is not required!" the Divine insisted.

"I wish to fight the Champion only, not him!" Lucressia screeched.

"It is the law; magic used within these walls is to settle disputes. Magic was used and a challenge made. Now you must settle your dispute." The Archon stated impassively, merely pointing out what was the Law in the Imperium.

The murmurs of the Magisters grew, Fenris heard them build as some took delight in the prospect of watching these two fight, insisting the Archon had spoken true, others argued that he was not in possession of his wits and could not make this proclamation. Years of resentment among Magisters began to be voiced and sides were being taken.

The Divine looked round, the years of building the fragile balance of petty squabbles among Magisters so that none would gather together to break his rule was beginning to unravel. This whole event was the chance he had taken to pull the Magisters together in one cause to take back what Tevinter had lost. It was supposed to ignite the fuse of war against the rest of Thedas, not within the Imperium itself. He thought quickly, he could see only one way out, the mages were his, he now needed the Magisters and the loss was acceptable.

"Is this what we are reduced to?" his booming voice rang out over all the noise, "We have been deceived!" His black clad arm stretched out and pointed at Hawke, "She is the one who started the war in Kirkwall and she seeks to do the same here. Are we going to let her?" Slowly, the "No!" answer gathered pace, Lucressia saw her chance,

"Give me the slave and I join with you." She offered.

"Gladly." The Divine replied.

* * *

><p>"Time to get up Hawke, you're not done yet."<p>

Hawke had been aware of the approach of the priest, thinking only that they were going to insist she stood and allow them to raise her hand and proclaim her the Victor as had happened every other time.

"Isabella?"

"Of course it's me you stupid mare! Well done with the star by the way, it's always nice to see someone paid attention in my classes."

"I was aiming for his chest."

"Hell Hawke, I'm amazed you hit him at all! Come on, let's claim your winnings and get out of here, my storm sense is battering my skull and we're not even at sea."

As they stood Hawke saw some of the Templars break from the circle surrounding them including the one who had Damien's shape. Isabella frowned, "Hawke we're in trouble. That big bugger's always late in rescuing us." Other figures started breaking from the spectator stands and Hawke recognised Trix first, but then saw Marta, Pauli and...Anders? She was given no time to ask as they surrounded her and Isabella and joined hands.

Hawke felt the slight tug on the ring, and lifted her head to where Fenris had pulled the sword from his back, phasing as he did to have the chains clatter at his feet. The cage door was open and Varania, Orana and the elf children were running to the shelter of the shield Marta was constructing from the collective magic. She saw the elf hunters and a group of slaves led by Evi running towards them and scooping up children who would never be able to run fast enough. She could see the attention of the Magisters shifting from the Divine towards her, the woman Lucressia was by his side and talking, she could not hear what she was saying but knew that it did not augur well. The sense of magic building up among the elegant couches was unmistakably about to be directed at her.

"Oh shit! We're fucked." Said Isabella grimly.

Hawke could only agree with her, the collective power of the best of Tevinter's Magisters was gathered here, what they had was not going to be enough to counter it.

"Have some faith."

A voice said in her head and Hawke felt the Spirit of the old man from her dreams fill her. Mage spectators started breaking out from the front rows and running towards the chain, grabbing the hands of those already there and adding their link of magic and strengthening the shield.

Fenris had no thought beyond taking out as many Magisters as he could. As soon as Hamahakis had opened the cage door he had leapt out and started sweeping out with his sword, clearing a path for the others to get to the centre of the arena before turning and fighting his way back as soon as they were clear. He didn't see Hamahakis turn back behind him, blades flashing as he took out those who had registered that the Slave was now free and very dangerous.

He felt strength fill him as never before and as though a he had a guide his arms swept the blade out, not once missing the target he aimed for. Fire and ice rained around him, but he never felt its touch, his tattoos flared with a brightness that was blinding those who came near him. Vaguely aware that he was heading towards the Archon, he tried to change direction and let his blade find the heart of the black robed bastard who now wanted Hawke dead.

"Leave him; even with my help you cannot do it."

Rage filled him as he realised that something else had entered his mind and body.

"I'm no demon." The voice said indignantly, "You will die if you do not accept this, and so will she." So he accepted it, unable to spare the time to think why he did and fought his way to the Archon once more, redirecting his rage at those who barred the way.

* * *

><p>They could do nothing but keep bolstering the shield as magical fury fell all around them. Varania added her magic as a few more brave souls tried to reach them from the arena boundary. Some of them made it and Hawke felt their defence boost. She saw Alano shove his way into the chain adding his own small contribution. Damien and the Templars with him were fighting back furiously, cutting down creatures created from sand, deflecting bolts of fire and other magical barrages, unaware of the demons who winked in and out of existence, unaware of Feynriel's lonely battle in the Fade that was keeping them alive. It was enough to stop those under the shield from being harmed, but they were unable to spare anything to fight back. Once again she was caught knowing that their defences would run out long before the Magisters.<p>

"It is time, use the elf." The spirit whispered in her head. Hawke gathered the magic from every source and almost it overwhelmed her before she sent it to Fenris.

* * *

><p>Tears streamed down his cheeks and the Archon's water filled eyes met with Fenris as he stood before his throne, his arms wide. "End it." He pleaded with him. Without hesitation he cleaved off his head and heard the loud cry of the Divine's denial sound behind him, long and drawn out as the blood poured over the headless body.<p>

"Are you ready elf?" the whisper sounded, "Remember what she taught you."

The magic started filling him, all at once and he felt the pain of what Danarius had done to him threaten to return him to a waking nightmare. Every last scrap of lyrium in his skin burned and he could feel blood begin to ooze and bubble in the heat that surrounded every one of his tattoos. He clung to the whisper and remembered, not quite believing that what Hawke had told him in a dream could possibly become reality and released it all, the pain leaving as he did so and fulfilled the legacy of Danarius.

It wasn't complete quiet he heard once all the magic was gone. Small hisses as sparks fizzled out; the crackle of flames that had found some fuel to keep going, the thumps of rocks that fell to the ground, their original trajectory changed with the sudden loss of magical direction. He looked around; not quite believing what his eyes told him. When Hawke had told him of the capability of his tattoos, they had both only thought it might be a means for him to buy some time to get the elf children to safety. She had taught him what to do in a dream, neither of them sure it would work in reality, yet it had and bought time for all of them.

Time stood still in the arena, just as he had seen what Hawke and Sandal had wrought on the docks of Kirkwall, but on a much larger scale. No one moved, each caught in their last action before the spell hit.

He heard a cough and a splutter off to the side and recognised Feynriel struggling to stand up, he looked exhausted but triumphant as his eyes scanned round him trying to take in the scene around him and stopped as they reached Fenris.

"What happened? How did you wake me?" he said as he staggered towards him clutching his head.

"Do you really expect me to answer that?"

The boy grinned at him, "I guess not, but thanks. Looks like you did whatever you did just in time."

Looking back at where the boy had come from there was a magister with a dagger poised ready to plunge.

"I think my Master just figured out how little control he had over me."

Fenris nodded, agreeing with Feynriel's assessment.

"Looks like this one was caught out by surprise." He said looking at the Divine with both his hands held up in front of him. Had he known just a little too late what was coming? The thought that he could slice off his head also crossed Fenris' mind. Here was the opportunity that a demon had offered him long ago. To be an equal with Magisters. Right now he could sweep his sword and kill every last one of them, yet what good would it do? That long held rage and anger that would have sustained the killing spree and been finally sated was gone. Magisters could think up more awful things to do to each other than Fenris could ever dream of. He now had more important things to do, getting his friends and family out of this place at the top of that list.

He turned with Feynriel to face the centre of the arena. The use of the spell had indeed been timely, spectators had started to climb into the ring, drawing their weapons and heading towards the centre, ready to fight in answer to the Divine's rallying call. Fenris caught sight of Hamahakis, the silverite web of his skin lit up and his blade an inch from the neck of a magister. He went over to him and hefted the small man onto his shoulder and headed towards Hawke.

"What now?" asked Feynriel trotting at his back.

"Time to leave." He answered simply.

Hawke stood with Gracie on one side and Varania on the other, a shimmer of light surrounding her of the Spirit caught in the freeze of time with her. The Spirit that had helped him had fled, no trace of its presence could he feel. Fenris lay Hamahakis down on the sand and gently prised her hand from Varania's, to link his own fingers with hers instead. He felt the rings vibrate and give a slight hum as they met, just as his lips felt that familiar frisson when they touched on hers. He sighed as all the blisters and burns surrounding his tattoos faded and healed. Feynriel watched in fascination as the living statues were released from their thrall, spreading out along the line of linked hands until it came full circle to end at Varania.

Hawke felt her eyelids flutter at the release and the spirit pull itself away from her to return to the Fade, knowing that never again would she feel its presence. The slight twinge of regret at that knowledge was lost in the warmth of feeling that filled her from Fenris. If he was here they weren't dead.

"You two can just quit that right now! My arse hasn't stopped shitting itself just yet and you are wasting time! There are other poor bastards that need their clock kicking to get going again." Gracie screeched.

"Later?" she asked with a small smile.

"Yes...later." Fenris replied.

Just as Hawke had released Cullen from the spell so long ago, she moved among those not caught in the chain and touched them. There were many she did not recognise, but realised these were people who had braved the onslaught to come to their aid. She found Evi, Cato and Mina among the elf children with the rest of the slaves that had followed them to the centre and Orana with her arms enclosed around another.

"Poppa! Hawke, you saved my Poppa!" she squealed on being brought out of the spell's hold.

"Saved himself more like!" Isabella slapped him on the back, "Sneaky little slave elf!"

Hawke moved on, the stories of how each had contributed would have to wait.

"You might want to help this one out particularly." Said Damien when Hawke started moving amongst the Templars. He took off the helmet of the prone Templar with the large rock beside him and a deep dent in his armour,

"Carver!" Hawke sat down beside him in the sand as she touched him.

"Damn it Sis. This meeting up in the middle of raging battles has got to stop." He said pulling at the straps of the armour to get underneath and rub the sore spot where the rock had hit.

"I saw Anders, but I never thought you would be with him."

"Of course he is! You told the silly bugger to look out for me, please tell him not to, he's really bad at it! Where is the murdering bastard anyway?"

Anders gripped Harral's wrist, stopping it from using the tiny blade it held from slicing the throat of the mage who stood in terror in front of him.

"It's Santiago Anders; this is the one who made me tranquil, my own mentor! He deserves to die!"

"Please!" the man whimpered, "I saw you with the others, I came to help!"

"You lie!" Harral shouted at him, "Your obsession with me brought you to this! You only think to reclaim me and make me your thrall once more!"

Anders recognised the right of Harral's assertion as the man continued to whimper and beg for his life not once denying what Harral accused him of.

"Maybe he does deserve to die Harral," Anders spoke quietly, "But you cannot live with the consequence of it being by your hand. Hawke spared me when I killed innocents, living with the evil you have done is much harder than dying a quick death and knowing nothing of repentance or atonement. Take your revenge, but let him live with what he has done."

Harral's tears slid down his face as he allowed the wisdom of Anders' words to sink in.

"It wasn't just me he hurt Anders, I owe them a measure of justice also."

"Justice?" Anders looked at him curiously, "Is some of him still in you?"

"Perhaps." Said Harral a small smile fleeting crossing his features, "But you have the right of it." He took a deep breath and faced Anders.

"I would ask a favour of you then. Help me make him mute, so that his lies will never enter the ears of another again."

"You don't want him tranquil? We could figure that one out if you wanted."

"No, I would not wish that on anyone. Santiago's magic relies on incantation and the recitation of spells, without words he will do little harm. It is enough."

"Tranquil without the tranquillity? You are a harsher man than you realise Harral."

With no one left to release from the spell Hawke led the group out of the arena. Alano skipped up alongside her and grabbed her hand.

"When we get home can you show me that spell?"

"Home?"

"You told the old elf to build us a home in the forest. That's where we're going isn't it?"

The boy looked up at her with such unquestioning trust and faith in her, she didn't have the heart to mention that they still had to get there first or that Gianna might have something to say about her grandson not following the path she wanted for him or that she hadn't thought Alano would be living with them or that so many others might want the same thing he wanted. She looked at Fenris who walked beside her carrying one of the elf girls, her arms wrapped tight around his neck. He cocked an eyebrow at her and the girl looked at her intently, all of them waiting to hear her answer.

"Yes," she smiled, "We're _all_ going home."

The spell had reached as far as the walls of the amphitheatre, beyond the entrance a crowd had gathered, peering in and trying to make sense of what they could see. The sudden quiet that had fallen on the area had them wanting to go in a see what had happened, yet terrified that whatever it was would overtake them if they did. The crowd parted as they walked out. At first silently watching as they passed. Slowly the whispers became louder and elves started leaving the corridor of faces to join with them on the road to the docks, by the time they were halfway there, Hawke could make out the awed tone as people started clearly stating that Shartan had returned to lead his people from slavery once more. She wanted to giggle, knowing how Fenris would be feeling about that, but the feeling left her when the calls of Andraste's return began to mingle with the murmurings. Feeling uncomfortable that forever more they might be tagged as living legends, Hawke turned to Fenris,

"Let's pick up the pace, we don't know how long that spell is going to last."

"That would be wise, let's get to the ships quickly before Isabella declares herself the Maker and demands they worship her."


	17. Chapter 17

The Minrathous skyline had quickly receded as the five ships fled. All with many more souls on board that what they had arrived with. No slave who had joined them on the walk to the docks had been denied their wish to leave. The mages who had helped them in the arena were found space and immediately demonstrated their thanks in helping in the healing those who had been injured in the great magical melee. They had picked up some additional stragglers on exiting the docks as those who had left the decision to get out of Minrathous almost too late had jumped into the water and desperately swam towards one of the ships.

In the clear sky of night the ships sailed on, navigating by the bright stars in the sky, none of them slowed. Only now was everyone on board beginning to relax. All eyes had watched for the chase to begin as Imperial warships appeared in their wake, but none had followed.

"Bugger! I was looking forward to a bit of a fireworks display, a great finale to our stay in Tevinter." Isabella pined as she leant on the rail beside Hawke and the others. "I almost wish a couple of ships had made to come after us and given Barzal an excuse to play with his toys."

"You mean my sister stopping time and bringing Minrathous to a standstill wasn't enough?" Carver asked sarcastically. "I'd have thought just getting out of Minrathous alive would be enough to satisfy you."

"Carver Sweetie, you know better how much it takes to satisfy me." Isabella pouted at him and laughed at the scarlet blush that filled his cheeks.

"How did you do the time stopping thing anyway Hawke? That was far beyond what you and Sandal did in Kirkwall." Anders asked.

Hawke felt Fenris' arms tighten round her, the old abrasiveness between these two had not lessened and she could imagine the glee with which Anders would once have taken in pointing out the hypocrisy of Fenris' opinions of mages once he knew the answer to his question. That Fenris knew it too was evident in the way he had pulled her closer to him.

"That wasn't Hawke, it was me." He said quietly, knowing that he was leaving himself wide open to jibes from his old adversary.

"You're a mage?" Anders asked incredulously, understanding immediately what was implied by Fenris' statement and obviously relishing the prospect of pointing out the strange dichotomy that was Fenris once again.

"Not in the true sense." Fenris answers quickly before there is time for the mage to verbally humiliate him. "I do not think I was born with that innate ability, but I suppose it's possible considering my mother and sister were. Danarius forced the talent upon me, but I never knew until Hawke discovered his letters to the Archon. You explain it Hawke, it still doesn't make that much sense to me yet."

She frowns, thinking for a moment on how to explain this for Fenris' benefit as much as Anders, "Fenris is like a..A magical conduit. For you and I Anders, our magic is energy that is stored in the very cells of our body, when we run out we can take lyrium potions to replenish it. With training we can harness the energy better, learn how to hold more in reserve, you know what I mean. Danarius etched that ability into Fenris; instead of the body's cells the magic is stored in the lyrium in his tattoos. I think Danarius knew something of the way in which we have learned to share magic and thought to use Fenris as a portable means to have access to additional mana. He never intended that Fenris should ever learn that this worked both ways and that if trained he could also use the stored magic to cast spells. In effect he had made a mage of someone who had no magical talent."

"Not just any old mage," Anders said thoughtfully, his gleeful anticipation of making Fenris the butt of a barrage of sarcastic witticisms suddenly put on hold, "An Arcane Warrior. The Warden taught me something of this."

"A what?" asked Carver.

"An Arcane Warrior." Harral replied almost reverently, "Mostly found among the ancient elves, but the talent was lost after the elves were driven from Arlathan. They were said to have specialised in combat magic."

"So in Fenris, Danarius created a specialised combat warrior who had the potential to enhance it with a bit of magic!" Anders whistled, "Maker! No wonder he didn't tell you, he'd created a mage stronger than he could ever hope to be! Shit, you could be stronger than I could ever hope to be!"

Fenris, surprised that he hadn't taken the chance to needle him, looked to Anders ready to have a little fun at his expense,

"Care to find out?"

"Eh...no, I think it's time for me to back away slowly." He said, quietly regretting all those times he had poked fun.

"Oh go on! The only thing he knows is how to make you stand still." Carver smirked. "Something you should have been taught a long time ago."

"Hey! Leave the cowardly mage alone! You know I'm no good when the pointy ends of weapons are aimed at me!"

"I always suspected you had a bit of magic at your back when you were flinging that sword back and forth," Carver smiled at Fenris, "Now I know you did!"

"This still doesn't explain how the spell was cast or why it was so strong and I'm curious to know how Fenris did that." Harral asks Hawke with genuine interest.

"I don't know for sure. Harral, if you've still got that scholarly bent about you now that you are back to your old self you would be better trying to figure it all out. All I do know is that I explained to Fenris how he could do it after I read Danarius' letters to the Archon. He was with the elf children and I thought he could use it to get them out of the Spire. It might have been useful, but Fenris needed training and we ran out of time. Anders, you've seen how much magic Fenris can shrug off when it's being blasted at him, he's better that any Templar we've ever known. I think it's all soaked up into his tattoos. With the amount of magic that was being fired about amongst those magisters, I think one hell of a lot must have built up. In the arena, the spirits helped us. The one with me helped me pull all our magic together to send to Fenris, his one helped him cast it. I doubt any mage has ever had so much mana at their disposal."

"Spirits? You mean like Justice?"

Hawke sighs, "Yes Anders, like Justice, only not like Justice. They stay in the Fade. They helped before when I almost drowned."

Feynriel coughs, "I think I might be able to help out a little with that one. After Justice scared the shit out of me with what he did to Harral, I started looking for the two that had been hanging around you Hawke. I found them in your children's dreams. Unborn baby dreams are really freaky by the way; I would say they helped you to help the kids as they are the ones they've chosen to look out for."

"My children have spirits in them?" Hawke asked worriedly.

"You've got more than one kid in there?" Isabella shrieked.

"It's a good thing Hawke," Feynriel continued, "They don't possess them, they watch over them from the Fade. They only come forward in times of dire need. I would say today was one of those times and they came to each of you to save your children. Lucky they did for all of our sakes I would say." Feynriel laughed.

"That explains the Archon; I thought that must have been what happened." Hawke reflected sadly, "But I don't understand why you weren't affected by the spell Feynriel."

"Merely a little trick our friendly ghost taught me, to protect my physical body when I am in the Fade. What was unexpected was being woken up by it."

"Stuff spirits and archons and stupid ghosts, why didn't you tell me there was more than one kid?" Isabella cried, frustrated that everyone was more concerned with much less important things. Hawke chose to ignore her wailing.

"I remember your friend Karl, Anders. Fenris said the Archon asked him to kill him. His connection to the Fade must have been re-established, because of the spirit that was with him, just like Karl did with Justice in you."

"You sound sad Hawke."

"It does make me sad. I kind of liked the man; I felt that if he wasn't Tranquil, he would not have been a bad Magister like the rest of them. I know that's probably stupid but...he told me where to find the key to the door in the library, he said he never told the Divine because he had made him tranquil."

Harral nodded, tears filling his eyes and trying hard not to let his emotions overwhelm him once again, "its not stupid Hawke. If the Spirit had chosen, it could have healed him and he would be a different man from before. I remember every moment of being tranquil. The only way I could express myself was through withholding information. I did it many times with Santiago, but he never noticed."

"Where is he? Anders said he was with us in the arena."

Harral hung his head, clearly not wanting to discuss this further, "I don't know, he did not come with us."

Anders had told her some of what happened between Harral and his old mentor and could appreciate the difficulty Harral was having in adjusting to what he had done, "I'm glad Justice helped you, I don't think I could have ended your life, no matter how much you might have wanted it."

"A strange thing Hawke, once I joined with you and your friends, the silent screaming in my head stopped. Being tranquil wasn't so bad travelling with you all."

"Wait a minute," Isabella said, forgetting for the moment all about Hawke's babies, "You remember _every_ moment?"

"Oh yes Isabella, _every_ moment."

"Oh shit Harral, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to...I was just interested to see if Tranquil people could...you know?"

"As I said, the only way I had to show my objection to something was to withhold, I don't remember withholding anything back from you."

"But you don't even like women!"

"Another human being showing some form of affection towards me was welcome even if I could not return it."

"Isabella have you not changed at all?" Anders glowers at her.

Recovering quickly from her embarrassment Isabella quipped back, "Jealous Anders?"

"Maybe a little." He says shaking his head.

"Really?" asks Harral, "You'll have to explain why to me sometime."

"I don't think Damian would appreciate us continuing to discuss your sexual misadventures Isabella." Hawke chided, reminding Isabella that she had changed and quite a bit, even if Anders didn't see it.

"I know I don't." Carver muttered.

"Tell me, what did you mean when you called Orana's Poppa a sneaky, slave elf?" Hawke asked Isabella, deliberately veering the conversation in a different direction.

"Oh that! Oh Hawke, Poppa and his pals were great! They were going round putting magebane into all the magisters' drinks."

Feynriel started laughing, "That's why it was easy for me to cut their demons off! Hell, I was hopping round the Fade thinking that those Magisters were bloody slow in bringing out their heavy duty weapons. I'll need to thank them; I owe them a few drinks. Ones that don't contain magebane."

"I think I do too, Lucarius would have definitely beaten me if he wasn't slowed down."

"Hawke, they didn't go near that bastard, too afraid he might recognise them. You beat him all by yourself in his unadulterated magebane free glory! Gracie told us all not to interfere with that one, 'help too soon would be no help at all' she said." Isabella looked incredulously at her friend, clearly unaware of just how much more powerful a mage she had become in their time at sea.

"I did have some help, didn't I Feynriel?"

The half elf boy blushed, "My master told me to shut him down, and he wanted his competition out the way for a seat on the senate. I was just happy to oblige him as it fell in with helping you out. It's probably just as well I dealt with him first and as well that Templar's can't detect help coming from the Fade."

"You accusing me of not helping?" Gracie shouted at Isabella as she came up behind them, "I'll tell you what's not helping, you having those tits on display like that, poke someone's eye out with those things you will!"

"Are you sure Aveline isn't your long lost daughter?" Isabella narrowed her eyes at the little woman who stood before them with her arms crossed.

"Who the hell is Aveline?"

"Oh, just someone I strangely miss having about now and then. I wonder what the big girl's up to now." She said wistfully.

"Varric would have loved all this, the stories he would tell, he would embellish them relentlessly. I miss him." Hawke adds.

"Funny, I was thinking of Merrill." Said Carver.

"You miss Merrill?" Isabella and Hawke both asked him at once.

"She said the funniest things. I liked that."

"I would like to see Sebastian one more time." Fenris said quietly.

"I certainly wouldn't." Said Anders. "The man wore external jockstraps with faces on them, like that wasn't creepy at all!"

"Not even if he didn't want to kill you?" Hawke asked.

"Nope, too bloody preachy for me."

"Well I don't care who any of these bastards are, they weren't here today to help out and I didn't come over here to listen to you lot get all maudlin' about folks that ain't here!" Gracie stood for a moment looking at them all, her face softening, "Little brother I want to thank you, my grandson still has most of the skin on his back, he ain't dead and I thought for sure he was done for in all that rabble."

"He did all right Gracie, figured out which end of the sword to hold in his hand just in time. He saved his own skin well enough without me." Carver assured her.

"Ah well, maybe there is hope for him. Dreamer boy! Impressive thing you did, I noticed them demons sent packing quick as you like. Hawke'll tell ya, I'm pretty nifty with a catapult with them demons in the Fade, just give me a call if you need any help with any more of those bastards."

"I'll be sure to do so." Feynriel nodded at her, knowing full well that she would never hear his call in the utter madness of the dreams that the woman had.

She glowered at Hawke and Fenris, "Big fucking risk you two took, sookin' up all the magic without a fucking warning. I still ain't back at full charge yet. Just as well the magic took hold before anyone got killed. Nice trick though elf, I think I'll get myself a set of them tats. Anders. My boy!" she said grabbing him full round the waist before gently slapping his cheeks and then pulling him by the ears towards her face and kissing him full on the lips. The rest of them laugh wondering just what he has done to get so far into Gracie's good books and a little glad that they haven't ended up there if this is what she does.

Hawke watched her and knew she could never deny her the right to pass judgement on them all. She appreciated the immensity of the risk she had taken to help her and thought she deserved every bit of the respect she demanded of others. "Gracie, thank you. I wouldn't have got out of there alive today if it weren't for you and the others."

"Just repaying a debt girl, Seere folks don't much like bein' beholden to anyone."

"You didn't owe me anything."

"Course we fucking did! Don't insult me by saying we didn't. Got us off our arses and helping ourselves, big deal in my book."

"All right then you old hag, answer me this." Isabella spat at her, "I poisoned a priest so I could take his place and be back up for Hawke when she showed that dirt bag Lucarius who was boss. Your bunch of raggedy witches stepped in before the next lot of trouble hit. How did you know when to step up and how did you know it wouldn't make things worse?"

"Same way the elf boy did. We spent three days watching and lugging in to those pampered idiots. Bloody bomb waiting to go off that bunch were. Anyone with an eye for plain old human nature could have known what was coming. When that Archon lad spoke, I knew the fuse was lit, I just used the time it took for all those bastards to decide it was all Hawke's fault to get to the right place."

"And how was the centre of that crumbling dust bucket the right place? I was there; anyone that knows me knows that on land I am never in the right place at the right time!"

"Well, you're right about that. It wasn't the right place, just the best of a bad lot. Only place where the rest of Minrathous lowlife wouldn't get in the way."

A voice calls out Gracie's name and the woman gives a giggling cackle as she turns away, "Watch yourself Hawke, them two bairns don't have much cookin' left to do. You should get some rest."

Isabella whacks Hawke on her shoulder with her fist, "There it is again. Does everyone know you've got twins in there and why haven't you told me?"

"Ow! Isabella! No, everyone does not know! Fenris knew because... because he can sense heartbeats. We didn't tell anyone because... because, damn it Isabella! You are the one who told me I was going to have a baby. I wanted something that I knew about my own body first! Until today, Feynriel was the only other person that knew. How Gracie knows is beyond me."

"You knew?" Isabella glared at Feynriel.

"It's a dream thing." He blurted out quickly, his hands held up in front of him ready to defend himself from Isabella's wrath.

"Well bugger me senseless Hawke, you don't do things by half do you? Explains a lot that does, and here I thought you had just been indulging in too many cakes and pies while you were cooped up in that Palace." Hawke scowled back at her, unhappy at her reference to her expanded girth.

"Just like me and Bethany." Carver looked fondly at his sister, all his old bitterness at her finally gone. "I wish mother had lived to see this, she would be so happy."

"You are kidding aren't you? She would be ranting at me right now for wandering around fighting when her grandchildren are on the way."

Carver laughed, "Sure she would, doesn't mean she wouldn't be happy. Giving you grief meant she was off my back. Besides, it's nothing she didn't do herself while she and dad were on the run."

"She wanted better for us and look at what's happened. History has repeated itself."

"Maybe it won't entirely. I'm a Warden; I'll make sure the darkspawn won't chase you from your home."

"Ugh! Would you please stop with lovey dovey family shit!" Isabella sticks out her tongue at them. "Much as I hate to agree with her Hawke, but the old boot was right, you need to rest. The only bed free is my cabin. Sorry Fenris, a crowd of elf kids have invaded the big bed, you can't have it. I'm sure the only reason that my bed isn't occupied is the crew have warned folks of what I would do to them if they did."

"What about you? Don't you need to sleep?"

Isabella shakes her head, "Storm sense is still tingling, and I won't sleep. I'm willing to bet that those Imperial bastards will be chasing after us as soon as the magic wears off, if it hasn't already, and there is a Magister able to give the order to those ships. If I can make sure we're far enough ahead that they won't catch up, I'm willing to forego a few hours sleep."

As Hawke and Fenris turn to leave, they nearly trip over the elf crouched at their feet.

"Evi? What are you doing? Get up!"

Evi remained crouched, her hands clasped in front of her, "No mistress, please, I wish to beg your forgiveness. I have done a great wrong."

"What wrong? Evi you have done nothing, now please get up and call me Hawke for goodness sake. You are not a slave anymore."

"But it is all my fault, I told others!" Evi remains crouched, refusing to stand and wringing her hands, clearly distressed by whatever great crime she thinks she has committed. Hawke looked up when Orana walked up behind Evi, Hamahakis hovering in the background as always.

"What's going on here Orana? Is this slave stuff I just don't get?"

"Perhaps. Evi was with us all the way from the docks, she just kept saying she had shown you the tree and you had said she could come with us. I haven't been able to calm her since we got back to the ships."

"Evi, just exactly what did you tell and who to?" Hawke asked, a dreadful feeling of premonition rising up from the pit of her stomach, that she knows what the answer to her question will be.

Orana bent down and grasped Evi's hand, encouraging her to stand up and face Hawke, reassuring her all the time that she would not be sent back. Although persuaded to stand up, she kept her eyes downcast as she started to haltingly explain.

"I have never dared to hope that I could have life other than the one I had. When you said we could come with you, I could not contain my joy. I told other slaves I met when I returned to the tree. It was only a few, I felt sure that you would agree to let them come too, but they told others and they told others also. The signs were all there, the seven children for our seven sorrows and the slave who had freed himself with the sword on his back. We believed that it was Shartan who had come back to free us all."

As Evi raised her eyes to look at Fenris in awe, Isabella snorted and began laughing. Carver slammed his hand on Fenris's back, "Well. It's official now brother, you are a God. The Chantry back home will have field day with you!" Having only recently been freed from his own form of enforced servitude, it was Harral who understood best Evi's distress and need to confess and was the one keen to prevent any further trampling on the beliefs that slaves had held to help them survive and stepped into the void of silence and shock that was apparent on the faces of Fenris and Hawke.

"Please fret no longer Mistress Evi, I am sure Mistress Hawke understands completely and assigns no ill feeling towards you for what you did. While I am sure that Master Fenris is honoured that you would think that he could be Shartan returned, I believe he would welcome your thoughts of him as a figure of inspiration that allowed you all to find the courage to break free of your life in Minrathous and no more than that."

Fenris could only nod vigorously in agreement with Harral's words. Hawke looked round and saw the rest of the slaves who had joined them on the ship standing with their heads bowed, hanging on to every word. She elbowed Isabella, "For Maker's sake stop sniggering and say something, take the heat off us, let them know these are your ships and they are here because you say so. I don't want a queue of elves following at our backs and praying all the time!" Isabella swallowed her laughter and patted Hawke's hand, "Only because it's you my friend and the bowing and scraping they will give me because of that will really piss me off."

Isabella stood with her hands on her hips and chest thrust out, "What you lot have not been told is the road to freedom is not paved with swan feathers and you will not be handed bread at every turn. It is earned with blood and sweat and a good deal of angst if you ask the white haired Shartan lookalike. These are my ships and if you don't want thrown overboard you will do your share of the hard work. Boys! Tell 'em what to do!" The 'aye aye cap'n's are heard from around the ship and the crew start organising the additional passengers.

"Hawke, that reminds me, I have a teeny weensy confession I would like to make as well. Not that you can do anything about it, but you might notice at some point that there are a few less coins in the chest you left under the cabin bed."

"I understand Isabella, we stayed in Minrathous longer than expected, and I wasn't there to ask if you needed it."

Isabella wriggled, "Ah well...I didn't exactly use it for living expenses."

"Well what did you use it for? Oh no, do I really want to know?"

"What! Hawke please, have a little faith! You could call it a sort of investment. I ah...well, remember all the slaves that were up for auction at that slave trader? I sort of...well I bought them for you...well not really for you because I let them go afterwards...well most of them...there were a few...a good few that insisted they belonged to me and I would have to take them. They are on Damien's ship. I hid them; just in the off chance you might have some objection. I thought I should tell you before you looked in the chest, I might be a bit of a thief, but I don't steal from my friends."

"So how much coin is left?"

"Well it would have been a lot more if I hadn't made a certain promise to someone, I haven't honed my adapted negotiation techniques, and I really should have sent Argo to do the deal. Look, all I'll say is it's not empty, but it's nearly empty."

Hawke gives a small shrug, "It was a good cause, when I think on all the other things you could have spent it on...Thank you Isabella, you only did what I had thought of doing anyway. I don't think Fenris will mind."

"What won't I mind?"

"I'll explain on the way to the cabin, come on, it's been a long day."

Anders followed them both down below deck.

"What do you want mage?" Fenris growled at him.

"I want to check Hawke over. I've helped a lot of women bring their children into the world. I know what I'm doing. If there are going to be problems I can help."

Hawke sighed, wanting nothing more than to lie down and rest. "Oh just let him Fenris. I've just assumed all was well; it would be nice to have someone confirm it. You know what will happen if you don't, he'll stand outside the door and make a pest of himself until he is allowed to do this. I'm tired and I need to sleep. I don't need you two fighting."

Fenris gives a small reluctant nod feeling torn between his own need for reassurance that Hawke and the children were fine and the fact that it was Anders who would be giving that reassurance. He would have much preferred Marta to be the one who attended Hawke after her sojourn as guest in the Archon's palace, but she was on Barzal's ship. Varania would have done as well, but she knew less about the mechanics of women's bodies and she had gone with Charade.

Anders was aware of Fenris' intent stare as he palpated Hawke's stomach, feeling the shape of the small limbs within and assessing how they lay. If things had been different, these could have been his children, but then he shook his head, chasing the thought away. It was stupid to think of it, the virtual sterility of Gray Wardens was a source of great sadness to them all. Fenris had given her the one thing it was unlikely he could ever have. Hell, the elf was willing to settle down, stay in one place, not something that Anders thought he would ever be able to do and he wouldn't bugger off in a few years to go and fight Darkspawn in the Deep Roads until he died. This one would hang around and look after his family until his last breath. Although it hurt to think it, the elf was better for Hawke than he could ever be.

Hawke was already sleeping when he finished the examination, her small snores sounding loud in the enclosed space.

"Well?"

Anders saw the mix of concern for Hawke and disconcertment at him writ large in Fenris' features. It was time for both of them to bury hatchets. Hawke would need him and he couldn't properly give that help if Fenris was ready to throttle him at the slightest perceived wrong.

"All seems good now, but Gracie is right. It won't be long before those two show their faces. Call me as soon as she complains of backache, or anything else." He gives a sigh before deciding to plough ahead and try to heal the other matter.

"I'm sorry Fenris. Sorry for all the things I said about you. Sorry for all the things I said to you. After what I've seen in the past few days, I think I understand why you hate mages so much. Minrathous was so much less than what I hoped for."

Fenris' surprise at Anders' words expresses itself in a harrumph.

"I mean it! Those Magisters are a real shower of bastards. Sure, come to Minrathous and fire your magic out all you want without any rules to hold you back, so long as you don't break my rules or be better at magic than we are. It's only marginally better than being kept prisoner in a Circle Tower, but definitely more life threatening."

"Minrathous not the mage paradise you thought then? You should have trusted what I told you."

"Trust you! You hated me from the moment you set eyes on me, how could I trust anything that came out of your mouth? And you tricked us, got us to fight off those sell swords Danarius had hired to capture you. Not exactly actions that inspire trust."

"Hawke did."

"One look in your big green eyes and she was lost." Anders gives a resigned shrug, "You rip people's hearts out for crying out loud."

"And you blew up a Chantry."

Anders gives a sardonic grin, "Neither of us is particularly trustworthy I suppose."

Fenris sighed, knowing what Anders was trying to do and he had to admit that the mage had changed, as had he.

"You can really help Hawke?"

"Yes elf. There is no one else among this unholy band that can as well as me. I did a lot of this back in the clinic in Kirkwall. You know I won't do anything to hurt her."

"I do. It is that alone that stops me ripping your heart out." Anders gulped as Fenris looked at Hawke and watched as his face softened. "I don't hate you any more mage. I'm not sure I hate mages any more, maybe just what some of them do. That doesn't mean I forgive you for killing Elthina."

"Shit Fenris, I haven't forgiven myself for that one, I doubt I ever will. It was a stupid thing to do. I often wish Hawke had killed me that day."

"I understand. You saved her brother. She owed you a life."

"It's that simple?"

"Probably not, nothing ever is with her, but I get it. You love her too."

"Does this mean you're prepared to let bygones be bygones?"

"Damn it mage, I'm not about to kiss and make up! Let's simply agree not to waste our energy thinking up ways of killing each other."

"Good enough." Anders agrees and holds out his hand to catch nothing but air before Fenris finally relents and brings his own hand forward and shakes it.

"Tell me. How did it feel wielding all that magical power, to have it all at your disposal and use it?"

Fenris can sense the awe and curiosity in Anders question. Perhaps it was best that it was he who was the one to use it, he could not imagine any mage, possibly with the exception of Hawke who would not have been tempted to use it to send out a furious blast of destruction that would have multiplied today's body count many times over. How could he answer him? The first spell he had ever cast, he had nothing to compare it to.

"I experienced only pain Anders. I would not wish to ever do it again."

"But you are a mage now, don't you want ..."

"I'm no mage! Understand this, magic means pain for me, a lot of pain. It has always meant pain. That one spell I used with the help of Hawke and a Spirit I felt had no right to be anywhere near me. I could not and would not do it on my own. It was only done because there was no other way. I will not be casting any more spells."

"But the mana stored in your tattoos..."

"Hawke can use it if she wishes. I have no use for it."

Anders realises that if he pushes this line of conversation any further, the fragile truce between them would disintegrate. For Hawke's sake he won't do it, but he finds it hard to walk away from someone with so much magical potential and can't understand why Fenris would not want to explore this new talent further.

As he says goodnight and leaves the cabin, he thinks that Fenris is wrong. He uses magic each time he pulls out that sword, his tattoos flare and magic gives him an edge in swordplay that few other swordsmen have available to them. Danarius had indeed created an Arcane Warrior and Fenris was unaware of the magic he used, just as Danarius had intended. Anders had always suspected that there was magic behind the elf's ability to rip hearts out, perhaps at some subconscious level Fenris knew that too and that was why there had been no organ removals done today.

* * *

><p>Strange dwarf that he was Barzal never slept below deck. He knew it surprised a lot of people that met him; they always expected that he would be more comfortable in the small confined space of the lower ship, thinking it would be more reminiscent of his dwarven homeland. Little did they know that it was that very confinement that he hated. He loved the open sky, loved the salt smell of the seawater, and loved the wind blowing through the long plaits of his braided beard. Yes he was strange, very different from other dwarfs, feeling more at home on the rise and fall of a ship deck than the feel of solid earth and stone beneath his feet. His favourite sleeping spot had always been at the prow. No matter which ship he had been on, the crew had all quickly got used to the occasional deep snoring that came from that end of the ship when Barzal was sleeping. The first thing he had done when Isabella had made him captain was to haul up a solid wooden deckchair that he could strap to the rail and unfold whenever he wanted. No more sleeping on flat wood. The contours of the chair fitted his body perfectly and not since childhood had he slept so soundly. Though for Barzal the best part of sleeping was waking up with the warm kiss of the first light of dawn on his face. Trumpets could have blasted in his ears and not woken him, but the slight change of temperature of night shifting to day always did. It was a blessing that sound did not bother him; otherwise on this morning the sound of elves throwing up over the side of the ship would surely have prevented him having any sleep at all.<p>

It was not the sound of the elven nausea that bothered him. He would have welcomed more of them on the ship if they had wanted to come. At this moment he could do little to help his sister. Lenkal was safe on Charade's ship with the young children that had been rescued with her; he hoped responding well to the gentle administrations of Varania and no doubt a couple of mages with some healing skill. What he could do was help to get as many as possible away from the city that had dealt with her so harshly. He didn't like to imagine what had happened to the rest of his sisters, the only clear thing his sister had been able to tell him was that they were dead. That information had been easier to deal with than the sight of his surviving sister in such distress. So no, the sound of a few sick elves was not going to put him off his stride. What did was the sight on the horizon that met his eyes as they opened to the new day.

Far off were the instantly recognisable sails of a fleet of Qunari warships. He jumped out of his chair, ready to give the command to raise flags and warn the other ships to change course and hope to avoid them. Before he could grab a member of crew, an elf with a distinct green hue to his skin approached with one hand held over his mouth and the other pointing at the stern. Rushing to the other end of the ship, he could barely make out little dark blobs of something at their back.

"Imperial warships, they're going to get us and take us back!" the elf at his side said.

"No they bloody well won't!"

Barzal thought quickly, but obviously not as quickly as Cavall and Lipiz who in their horse shape he could see were already tearing through the water towards him. His were not the only eyes to see the approaching dangers and he was glad about that, no need for flags now. Turning he saw the crewman who had ran behind him as soon as he saw his captain haring from one end of the ship to the other.

"Jip! Get that Marta woman to round up any mages we have on the ship and get some others to bring up the good stuff. Careful like, but quickly. It's time."

Jip grinned and ran off.

"You three!" Barzal shouted at the elves at the stern, "Get up in that crow's nest with Alf. Keep watching those ships and shout out their positions." He hoped they could stop throwing up long enough to do what he asked. The three ran off without a backward glance to do his bidding and four more stepped forward in their place. Barzal didn't stop to think and ordered them to soak themselves down in seawater and do exactly what Jip told them to do when he returned with the 'good stuff'. An elf child was revealed behind them when they left, staring up at Barzal with large violet eyes, in the plain tunic they were wearing Barzal had no idea whether it was a girl or a boy, but they were charged with bringing up the wooden box that sat on the table in the captain's cabin beside the maps.

Barzal headed towards the wheel, elves skipping out of his way as he did so,

"Where exactly are we Con?"

"Just coming out of the Ventosus Straits Cap'n." The tall man with the unruly mop of red hair answered, "T'other side of Eyes of Nocen, Qarinus to starboard, Seheron to port. Still in Imperial waters."

Looking behind Barzal could just make out in the increasing daylight the green outline of the two islands that sat at the edge of the Straits. They had come so far in such a short time, but not far enough.

"Do your best to keep us the same distance between them two fleets. Move us closer to land starboard side; if they get to us I want us to wash up on the right side of the water."

"Aye aye Cap'n."

Barzal knew when Cavall and Lipiz had climbed on board by the squeals coming from elves caught in the spray of water drops as the two shook the seawater from their hair.

"Captain Charade sends her regards and hopes you noticed the warships." Cavall's voice boomed out, "I think it's time for something to eat!"

Barzal could not help but be caught in Cavall's blatant enthusiasm and laughed out loud releasing some of the tension that had built up in him since waking.

"Oh yes lad, let's just hope it won't be us that's filling your belly!"

"I will do my best to keep you alive, but you would make a fine meal. I've never tasted dwarf, it would be interesting to try it and you I would share with all my clan so that all may know your greatness!"

* * *

><p>Fenris hadn't slept at all. His head too full of thoughts that kept sleep far from him. As he watched Hawke he almost envied that human ability where the body took over and stopped for a while to repair and recharge. Elves rarely simply rested, probably why they made such good slaves. He had been tempted to wake her. They had been so long apart with dreams their only contact, now that they were together her body was in front of him, but her mind was far off in the oblivion of sleep and right now he couldn't reach her there.<p>

He wanted to tell her how he felt that he now truly understood what freedom meant. Three days spent in that cage in the arena, with chains and bars around him, to all intents and purposes returned to a slave state had shown him how free he was. Freedom was not dictated by physical boundaries, but by the way you thought. Releasing himself from the mental chains and bars had been a long journey and Hawke had been with him all the way. He wondered what Flemeth might have to say about him now.

He hadn't liked Anders saying he was a mage and he hadn't lied when he told him he was no mage, but he had to grudgingly admit that Arcane Warrior had a certain ring to it that he found appealing. Danarius had done to him what he did and that couldn't be changed. He had spent far too long railing against it and far too much energy had been wasted in anger, hate and denial. It was time to embrace it and accept that this was who he was. On reflection he liked what that was. Hawke had loved him despite it all, maybe because of it and he should too.

He thought on his father and the few hours he had spent with him. He hoped so much that he would be granted the time to be a father to his own children that the unfortunate man had been denied. The sound of footsteps and then banging on the door warned him of hoping for so much so soon, all his instincts told him a new obstacle was in the way of having them realised.

Josson didn't wait for an invitation to enter, his head appearing round the now opened door.

"Cap'n wants you both now!"

Fenris frowned at the groan that Hawke let out as she woke and stood up, the frown deepened as he had to help her steady herself, but it was as she rubbed the small of her back on their way to the upper deck that made him pay attention. Wasn't this what Anders had told him to watch for? Hawke wasn't complaining, but it was clear there was something not right. It was her pause as she made her way up the stairs, her hand reaching out to the wood of the ship to steady herself once more that decided things for him. Isabella could wait, whatever the problem was she would have to deal with it without them. At the top of the stairs he grabbed hold of her and yelled for Anders.

Hawke gave him a puzzled look before glancing at the pool of liquid that was gathering on the deck from the stream that was running down her legs. "What are you doing?...Oh Maker! I've peed myself."

"It's not pee Hawke." Anders told her as he came beside them. "Let's get you back below. Captain's cabin I think and chase out any little elves we find there."

Gracie's cackle followed them down, not quite drowning out the scream that escaped from Hawke's mouth as they reached the bottom of the stairs.

"I told you it would be soon. I'll join you shortly Anders my lovely, you'll need a hand. I'm just going to let the slut know that her friend won't be helping her out this time!"

Alano was holding court in the cabin, relating to a rapt audience of elf children the story of how Hawke had rescued him,

"I'm telling you true, I swear she had wings and everything..."

The little bodies scooted off the bed quickly and ran out when Anders told them it was time to leave until only Alano was left to look at Fenris, a look of abject terror on his face.

"Is she dying?"

"I don't think so." Fenris answered glancing at Anders, not quite sure what to say.

"Of course I'm not dying!" Hawke spoke up between teeth crunching and grunts, "The babies have decided that now is good time to come out and I think they've made a really bad decision! What is happening out there?"

"It doesn't matter, you can't help, not right now." Anders answered with his best 'I'm in charge' voice.

"Tell me! I don't give a flying f...Ahh!"

"As I said Hawke, it doesn't matter."

Alano relaxes, "I'll go fetch some towels and hot water, that's what they always told me to do in the whorehouse when this happened."

"Good lad."

"Don't let her hold your hand." Alano whispers to Fenris on his way out, "Rosalita broke my finger bones when I held her hand and her baby was coming out."

"Thanks for the tip."

Alano left and Gracie entered bottles of alcohol in each hand.

"I hope you're not planning on getting drunk!" Fenris glared at her.

"How dare you suggest such a thing! Although... now you mention it." She promptly took out a bottle cork with her teeth and spat it on the floor before taking a swig. "Better not have any more; the boy here needs it more than me."

"Does Anders need to be drunk to do this?" Gracie laughed at Fenris' question.

"Oh elf, I had hopes you were going to be better than all those other daddies to be I've met, but you're just like all the rest, eager enough to get their women in the family way and then take no interest in what happens at the end of it. All right lad, hold out your hands."

Anders rubs the alcohol all over his hands and arms as Gracie pours.

"Right then lass, knickers off so the boy can find out what's going on in there."

"What?!" Fenris gasps.

"Look elf, if you are going to get all squeamish about this then leave right now. Gettin' bairns out ain't pretty, so if you want to be useful, shut up and let the boy here do his work."

"Know a bit about birthing Gracie?" Anders asks.

"Only enough to help you out. Marta's the real expert, she's asked me to help out more than a few times. I know what gets done, could do it in a pinch, but you're here so it ain't a pinch. Besides, it's only proper that another woman is in here. Now then lass, just remember your dignity is at the door where you left it on coming in here, you can pick it up later, so let's have your lady bits out on full display."

* * *

><p>"Cavall, I know some of your clan is out there. Invite them aboard; I've got a job for them." Barzal looked indulgently at Cavall. He knew the kelpie had sang to his clan in Minrathous, the expectation that they would have a great old feast there, but there had been no time and no need. Not one of the warships had made any move to stop their leaving and Barzal wasn't inclined to attack them without them having made a move against him. Things were different now. It was clear it was them they were coming for. Con had steered the ship inland and the warships had changed course steering directly towards them. The Qunari warships had done the same damned thing, even though by now each fleet must have been able to sight the other. He surmised that the Qunari had decided that anything the Empire was after would be useful to them and were ready to raid them and fight their old adversaries.<p>

Cavall gave a wide grin and then whistled. Immediately Barzal could see the heads of several kelpie poke out of the water and head towards them. Jip and a few of the lads were bringing up a chest and a barrel from the hold, the dampened elves ready to help them haul both onto the deck. Marta came running towards him with four mages in tow.

"What do you need Captain?"

"Can any of you lot do flames and stuff?"

One of them owned up to an ability to send out fireballs, which Barzal thought could be very useful, but not for what he needed right now.

"Start sending out your fireballs if any of those ships get too close and make sure none come near this ship, but for now I want something more refined, a small flame that will light fuses, not blow up the powder before we can get out of range."

Marta looked at him with her heart growing heavy, she knew what he was looking for and who could give him it, but she didn't like what she guessed was coming.

"You need Trix and Alano. They light up the lanterns on Isabella's ship at night with sparks, but Captain, they are children, it's not right to use them for this."

Barzal sighed, "I'm sorry mistress, but there is no other choice, the sea is too choppy for the little lanterns Cavall and Lipiz would have used at the docks. The ships are too far apart for them to return and get another one if they did go out. There is no chance they will stay alight unless there are any of you mages that can think of another way and quickly."

They all shook their heads, the Circle had always encouraged them to move straight to the big spells, them they could do with some degree of precision, but none had ever spent much time on the small things like sparks or a simple flame popping out at the tip of the finger.

Barzal went to the chest just as Jip was laying it down and pulled out the already prepared two oiled backpacks and gave one each to Cavall and Lipiz.

"You know what to do. Get the kids so they can light them. Come back when you need more and whatever you do, keep those kids alive." The two kelpie nodded at Barzal and headed back into the water towards Isabella's ship.

He watched Jip pull out little glass bottles, fuses and rubber stoppers from the chest and begin to show the elves how to fill up the bottles with powder from the barrel and make bombs, explaining first and foremost that on no account were they to run their hands through their hair, wipe their hands on their clothes or drop the bottles, otherwise...Jip just raised his hands with his fingers spread out, expressing clearly what would happen. One thing he could say about slaves was they did what they were told to the letter. Not one grain of powder went where it shouldn't. All the while he heard Alf and the elves shouting down from the crow's nest, but he didn't need them to know that the warships were getting closer.

Turning back to Marta and the mages, he looked up at them gravely, "If you can't help with magic you can help with writing, you can do that can't you?"

The mages nodded vigorously. It was Marta who hung her head. "Ah don't mind mistress, you've done more than most already and if this goes tits up, you'll be kept busy enough."

He turned to the elf child with violet eyes standing patiently with the box in their arms.

"Thank you." He said and took the box and started pulling out paper, quills and ink.

"Get ready to write, I need messages sent to the other ships, with four of you writing it will save a lot of time."

The kelpie who transformed as they came on board towered over the dwarf.

"Can any of you talk like Cavall?"

All of them looked down on him blankly. Barzal swore under his breath then grabbed a piece of paper and popped it in a small bottle. Pointing at the bottle and then the other ships, the kelpie grasped what he wished them to do. One however grabbed the bottle with the blank paper and dove into the water heading for the Song of the Siren; Barzal could only hope that Damian would see the funny side when he received the blank message. He started reciting the messages he wanted sent while watching Cavall and Lipiz. Everything rested on them and their young riders.

* * *

><p>Neither Alano nor Trix saw the inherent danger in what they were being asked to do. The two of them only became more excited at the prospect of riding kelpies in the water and using their magic sparks to help everybody.<p>

"We'll be real heroes!" Trix squealed.

"Just like Fenris and Hawke!" Alano squealed back, "This is going to be great!"

Meanwhile Isabella paced back and forth, "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, and fuck! Gianna will kill me, Hawke will kill me, Gracie will tear me limb from limb. Oh this is bad! Bad! Bad!"

Cavall put a hand on her shoulder to stop her pacing, "Don't worry, they will be with us. We will not let them be lost in the sea."

"Drowning could be the least I have to worry about! That little boy has been used as bait, a ship's skivvy and now you want me to let him light bombs to blow up ships. I know I said I wanted a firework display, but not like this!"

"Captain! There's more!" Hamahakis yelled at her from above and pointed. Isabella felt she couldn't take much more. Another fleet was heading towards them, this time from inland. The Imperials must have sent word to Qarinus and sent out more ships from there and they were caught like flies in the centre of the triangle made by the three fleets all heading their way.

"Go Cavall! Take them! Hawke can't kill me if I'm already dead!"

Cavall knelt down and explained carefully what they were required to do. Both of them listened intently and Cavall nodded once they had repeated it back to him and with no more time to waste they entered the water towards their first target. Cavall and Alano to the Qunari fleet, Lipiz and Trix to the Imperials.

Alano thought it was the most wonderful thing ever as he sped through the water on Cavall's back. He quickly learnt to take a deep breath each time they surfaced to last him through the underwater dash until the next time Cavall brought him up for air. His fingers twined in Cavall's mane, Alano hung on, his eyes soaking in the strange landscape that hid beneath. Far below them he could just see the rocks with strange plants weaving gently back and forth. Fish tried to keep up with them as they sped on. Alano felt as if he was flying.

All too soon in Alano's opinion, they reached the first warship. Just as Cavall had told him to he opened the bag. A small amount of water had managed to get past the tightly drawn drawstring, but nothing had got past the second inner bag. Cavall kept pace with the ship and kept Alano as high as he could out of the water. He pulled out the jar at the top and opened it to take a flat glob of the sticky stuff inside and slapped it onto the wood as high up as he could, then oh so carefully he pulled out a little glass jar and attached it to the sticky glob. Cavall had told him if the fuse got wet it would not light, no matter how big a spark he made. Closing up the bags he gave Cavall the strings to pull tight with his great teeth, the kelpie had warned him never to light the fuse until after the bags were closed. Once lit, they had to move away quickly and would not have time to close them then. He sent out his spark easily, all the months of lighting lanterns had made this easy for him. He remembered the first few times when he thought he had to squeeze and squeeze before getting a tiny spark of light to fly out from his fingers, now he could issue a big fat one and didn't even need to close his eyes to do it. The fuse lit and he jumped down on Cavall's back once more and raced off to the next ship. He was just setting that fuse alight when the loud boom of the first bomb rang out. He barely heard it, so concentrated on the task he had been given and did not take the time to look at the results of his handiwork, before moving on to placing the next one. It wasn't perfect every time, he lost three bombs which slipped from his wet fingers and fell into the water to float away. Another time, water splashed on the fuse and he had to leave it stuck to the wood and start again. However, the even louder boom from that ship let them know that the damp had not reached the powder in the glass. That was the point when Alano did look around to see seven of the ten ships floundering in the water. All of them in various stages of sinking and many men who couldn't swim in the water, their heads simply disappearing under the waves. The water had turned red and pieces of blasted bodies floated on top. The game Alano had been playing suddenly became no fun anymore. Cavall caught the look on the boy's face and understood the change. In his strange rasping horse voice he told Alano to finish what he was doing. It was time to return to Barzal. The way back took less time, so much closer to the trapped ships the Qunari had come. Alano saw the last ship explode and saw the hole the bomb had created and the water rushing in. The next time they came up for air, he saw the men jumping from it and those who could swim towards the remaining two intact ships.

Once he had clambered up the rope ladder to the deck he stood at the rail, caught in a macabre need to see the full extent of what he had done. The tears came unbidden to his eyes, so many people dead because of him, he didn't think about their intent to kill or capture him. He didn't acknowledge the words of praise or pats on the back he received from those behind him, the congratulations sounded faint and hollow to his ears. It was the warm comforting arms of Marta that pulled him away,

"It's all right son. You've done enough."

He burrowed his face in the soft cushion that was Marta and cried until his tears ran out.

* * *

><p>Trix had no qualms over what she did. At each explosion she gave a triumphant whoop, until one of the soldiers spotted her and Lipiz and she had to dive far under to avoid the arrows that came flying at them. Happily she returned to Barzal after sinking the six ships in the first Imperial fleet, to collect more of the little bombs and headed out to the second. Lipiz stopped her after the fourth ship had blown; the other two had turned and were heading back to Qarinus, no longer a threat.<p>

Not so the remaining two Qunari ships. The threat of being blown up and sunk seemed to be no deterrent at all, if anything they seemed more determined to reach those that had undermined their intended course of action.

Varania had watched in horror at the unfolding carnage, had felt the rising anger at the sight of Alano being used as the means to cause such death and destruction. Surely they could have found another way. Do what they had done back in Minrathous, but as each message arrived from the other ships she almost felt the clang of barriers as alternatives were shut down.

Charade had handed her the first one as it had warned them to gather what mages they had on board and prepare however they could after directing Charade to place her ship where Barzal thought was best.

Although there were few mages to be had on Charade's ship, Varania knew there were enough to share mana and protect those on this ship. Where was Hawke? For months they had worked together on their magic, they did not need to be close enough to touch to share it. She could join her pool with hers, but she had no sense of Hawke's magic to do it. Varania knew that The Song of the Spellweaver had the best pool of mages among all the ships, why was Hawke not using it? How could she let Alano be used like this? Where was her brother? Could they not use him to do the time stopping once more and then there would be no need to use the boy?

She wept when the message arrived from Isabella,

_'Hawke useless, busy having babies. Keep following Barzal's lead.'_

She had wanted to be there to help Hawke when the time came, never dreamed that she wouldn't be. Never imagined the time would come in the middle of a bloody battle at sea. All she could do was watch as each explosion ripped into the ships surrounding them. Watch as soldiers and slaves that had survived, disappear and drown in the depths.

"Varania! Maker's breath do something!"

Charade's shout gathering anyone with archery skills cut through the fog of her thoughts and she saw the cause of Charade's distress. One of the remaining Qunari ships was heading straight for them, the men on board preparing to fire the ballista, it wouldn't matter if it missed, and the lead lined prow would cut through them like butter.

She gathered the mana from the mages around her and sent out the largest force spell she could muster, hoping only to send it away from them. The spell did nothing to slow the ship down, the momentum the rowers imbued it with too great, but it did shift it from the path it was on, far enough that the men on board would take time to realign the ballista and sent it heading straight for Barzal. Varania's hands went to her mouth, the other Qunari ship had already been going in that direction, correctly surmising that it was his ship that was leading and now poor Barzal had the two remaining ships to deal with. Closer and closer the ships shifted towards him. She heard the dwarf bellow at his crew to retreat and then small balls being thrown towards the ships, someone on board had good aim and she heard the glass shatter as the balls landed on the Qunari decks. She felt the draw on mana and fireballs were sent out. The blast as the fire met the contents of the balls sent wood, sails, oars, limbs, bodies and ballista out in all directions. One warship and then the other disappeared in a falling curtain of debris, barely before Barzal's ship would have been crushed between them.

* * *

><p>The sound of ragged cheers drifted down to the cabin.<p>

"There you are, told you it was nothing to worry about."

Hawke grabbed Anders clothing at his neck and pulled him to her face, "Stop telling me not to worry! Those were fucking loud bangs!"

"Hawke please! It doesn't matter; you can't do anything about it!"

"I don't fucking care! I need to know!"

"I'll go and find out." Fenris makes to stand up and leave, but Hawke grabs his arm.

"No you bloody well won't! You got me in this state and you'll bloody well stay and sit it out with me!"

Fenris sits down again feeling chagrined. He had learnt to his cost the value of Alano's tip about the hand holding, but no one had warned him of how angry Hawke would get. He was grateful that Anders continued failure to inform Hawke of the meaning of the sounds from outside meant that he bore the brunt of it. That didn't mean he wasn't on the receiving end of it some of the time. He felt so useless. He got that his job was to support, but had no real idea of how to give it. That was how he had got caught in the hand holding.

"Oh stop your whining girl! The only thing you should be thinking about is gettin' those bairns out. Push harder! They should have been out by now!" Gracie looked to Anders for agreement in her assessment.

Anders stood up and smoothed out his clothing. "You're right, they should be out by now, but it has nothing to do with Hawke not pushing hard enough. Fenris I need you to help."

"Me?"

"I don't know if you remember Isabella suggesting you could pluck knife tips out of shoulders." Any other time Anders would have laughed at the shock on Fenris' face as he grasped a little of what he was asking him.

"You want me to pull the babies out!"

"No, not that. Let's see if we can get them out the old fashioned way first. The first child is positioned wrong; it's got its back to the door so to speak. I've been trying to shift it, but it won't budge, the other baby is in the way. If you can do a bit of gentle shoving from the inside, I can manipulate from the outside. Between us we can get both of them where they need to be."

Fenris balked at the thought. Careful phasing he had never done, always a quick manoeuvre, grab heart and pull, or more recently to get filthy chains off him. The only time he had sustained a phase had been in dreams with Hawke.

"What Anders is not telling you is that all three of them could die if you don't do this." Gracie pointed out baldly.

"Fenris don't think about it, just do it!" Hawke shouted at him, "If this isn't over soon I'll happily die anyway!"

"You don't mean that!"

"Right now I really fucking do!"

He phased. Gently his hands reached round the tiny bodies, slowly pulling them the way Anders wanted as he in turn pushed them in another direction. Anders was still talking when he felt Hawke's muscles tense for another contraction.

"Get your hands out!"

He slowly loosed his fingers and took his hands away from Hawke as she roared out. The huge grin on Anders' face told him they had done it. The child slid out with ease into Anders hands with the next contraction.

Fenris was awestruck as he watched Gracie minister to the new life covered in bloody mucus and white slime. She was right, childbirth was not pretty. It was utterly beautiful.

"Here you are, he's a bit small, but a fit as a fiddle little son." Gracie handed him the tiny bundle that only moments before he had held inside Hawke. "Hang onto him, we're not done yet."

It wasn't long before the second child emerged as loud as the first had been quiet.

"Impatient little besom isn't she! Didn't like being kept waiting did you?" Gracie murmurs as she wraps the little squalling girl and hands her to her mother.

"There's a bit more work to be done here, but you two go right ahead and get all gooey. Enjoy it while you can. A few sleepless nights and you'll be tearing your hair out with the little buggers."

"I suppose this means our adventuring days really are over." Fenris whispers.

"I suppose they are. Now we're off to live in a forest and hide with a bunch of elves."

"Strange places indeed."

"Another promise kept then. Sure you won't miss fighting demons, pirates, slavers and evil magisters?"

"Let's hope they leave us alone long enough to miss it."

"And not just replaced with giant spiders, wolves and bears."

"I'll make sure my blade is kept sharp then, just in case."

Isabella's head peeked around the door before coming all the way in when she saw Hawke and Fenris smiling at her. "You are not going to believe what we just did upstairs and all without your help!"

"It doesn't matter Isabella," said Hawke, "Look what we did down here."

Looking at the two little bundles fresh to the world, Isabella thought that this was not the right time to relate the details of the death and destruction that had been wrought outside the door. Outside the door she had left the occupants of all five ships doing their best to fish out the survivors of the destroyed fleets. There were not many. The weight of soldiers armour had dragged them down to the depths and the dining table of the kelpie. What was left of the Qunari refused to be rescued, preferring to die by drowning than live with failure. The Qun was merciless. The odd few they were dragging out were slaves who had suddenly learnt the art of swimming in their need to survive. The only cost to their own little fleet was a sizeable hole in Barzal's ship where the ballista had been fired successfully, the last act of a man before being blown to smithereens. The mages were holding back the influx of water while crew desperately bailed and repaired. The only injuries to a few on Barzal's ship that had been caught in the rain of debris from the final explosions. The haunting lilt of the kelpie singing could be heard filtering up from underneath.

* * *

><p>Gisharel looked out over the Venification sea and saw the dark dots slowly resolve into the ships that Feynriel had told her were coming in her dream. She wouldn't believe that they were real until they were safely in the old pirate cove. Annarrion and all the elves of her clan spread out along the shore, all watching and waiting.<p>

In the weeks since Hawke's departure with the children she had fought hard against her own fears that they would never return and rallied the clan to prepare, not knowing when or if those preparations would be required. Annarrion had built a home for his son and his wife, unlike a home she had ever seen, but as close to those she had read about in ancient texts. A tribute to the life that elves once led and a beacon of hope for the future. At the edge of the clearing above the watchtower ruins he had chosen a tree thick with branches and bent them, shaped them and woven them. As he worked others had joined him, collecting wood, feathers, stones, skins and grasses, together they had carved, woven and crafted a home of unsurpassed beauty. A template for the rest to follow and already other trees had been chosen. This clan would travel no more.

She had instilled a hope in her people that she was afraid to believe would be fulfilled herself, but now, today, she would see the seeds of renewal planted, their faith in her rewarded. They had taken to calling it The Homecoming, the beginning of the return of all their lost children. She knew many believed that this was the start of the return of the elves to the golden, glory days of old. Gisharel knew that this would not be the case. No return to the ancient days, but a carving out of a new path. It excited and terrified her at the same time.

Watching the ships grow closer, she began to see the rails lined with people who began to wave. There were so many, how had they done this? It was Annarrion who moved first, spotting the point where the ship with his white haired son would berth and the others began to make their way to welcome home those who had been lost to them for so long.

Gisharel watched with a growing sense of wonder at the many people disembarking. Only five ships, yet how had they made it here with so many on board? She hadn't seen this many people all together in such a long time, she was sure there were more than there had been at the last clan gathering. She saw elves and humans wearing the tabards that marked them as slaves from Minrathous, robes that told of mages, others in rags that were testament to a life of hardship and a small number in armour that she knew marked them as Templar. Her eyes widened in amazement as she saw horses shift in shape to that of men and women as they clambered out of the water surrounding the ships. She had read of the Kelpie in books, but had thought their kind had been lost long ago. Such a mix of races and all working together to leave the ships without any harsh words or argument. She gasped as she caught sight of two dwarfs, was there any race not represented here? This was no elven homecoming, the people of Thedas were coming together to start something new. Gisharel grasped for a moment a glimpse of the prescience the ghost had tried to convey to her. The survival of the elven race lay not in reaching to the past, scrabbling around trying to find and clutch on to old ways that were long forgotten, but in grasping what lay ahead. It would take years, many, many years, but the Elven way of life would change and right here was where it would begin.

* * *

><p>Hawke thought back to the last time her friends had gathered like this to say their goodbyes. Once again there was an entire city in chaos in the wake of her travels, but she didn't feel the same anguish about it this time. Nor the same need to get away from it as far and as quickly as possible. The elves had taken to calling this new settlement Aneth Ara; Gisharel had told her it meant 'My Safe Place'. It seemed fitting and she hoped it would be true, a place she could raise her children without fear. When they had left all she had hoped to return to was an aravel where they could shelter before making more permanent arrangements, but Annarrion had outdone her with a true home and the Dalish themselves looked to stay with them. Already the area had the look of a small village rather than one lonely homestead.<p>

Isabella and the ships were leaving with the dawn and far more than her were also using this last gathering to make their farewells. Not everyone who had come here wished to stay. The kelpie had left on the same day they arrived; keen to return to the underwater larder once the ships were safely arrived at their destination. Only Cavall had lingered and faced the onslaught of questions from Gisharel and he would be leaving in the morning, following Charade's ship this time. Most of the survivors they had rescued from the sea battle had asked if they could be kept on as crew on the ships, not that there were many of them, fewer than Hawke would have liked, but their request was granted, Isabella warning them that if they breathed one word of Aneth Ara, she would personally make them regret every moment since they had been pulled out of the water. The oath of silence they gave her in return made her wonder at forcing the rest of the crew to swear it, clear that their loyalty to her would be absolute. Some of the mages had also asked to join the crew, enough that each ship would have at least one mage on board. Isabella and the rest of the Captains were thrilled at the prospect, but more because they had agreed to double up as cooks than any magical security they could provide.

"Aw lass, get that sad look wiped from your face, it doesn't suit you." Gracie said as she sat down beside Hawke on the bench. "It's not as if you'll never see us again."

Hawke gave her a small smile, "It was those I don't think I will see again that I was thinking of. I always thought I would return to Ferelden, but there is nothing for me there now."

Gracie sighed and patted Hawke's hand, "I'm thinking the same about Seere."

"What do you mean? You have family there."

"Aye that I do, but they are a bunch of ungrateful bastards. I see the looks on their faces when I show up. I don't want to go back to living up a hillside. I'm getting too old to face another winter alone in those hills. Young Trix was the only thing that made it bearable and she's staying here. I'll go back with the rest of them and see those kids safely home, but I'll come back the next time the slut holes up in the harbour. Seere is a truly miserable arsehole end of a place; I don't want to pop my clogs there. I don't fancy fading away and letting the ground and the wolves consume my sorry remains. You'd make sure I get a better send off, wouldn't you lass?"

"Of course, but I hope that won't be necessary for quite a while."

"Long enough to get an idea on how these two little mites are going to turn out I think."

Gracie reached out her hands to stroke the cheeks of the sleeping babies snuggled in the basket at their feet, "What names have you given them?"

"Not definite yet, but we were thinking Malcarrion and Carilleandra. A mix up of their grandparent's names. What do you think?"

"Too fucking long is what I think! You've been hanging around elves too much! You call them what you will lass, its Mac and Cally to me. That'll do nicely."

"And here I thought you were going to call them Isabella and Damian!" Isabella whispered in Hawkes' ear as she and Damian came from behind to sit on the bench beside them.

Gracie's cackle rings out around the fire, "Ha! The lass ain't stupid enough to call her bairns after a brazen slag and a fucking pirate!"

Isabella pouts, "I've changed old witch."

"You're clothes haven't, you still look as if you crawled out of a shagshack!"

"Well you might be right about that." Isabella looks at Damian with a lewd grin who then grabs her chest and pulls her towards him to kiss her full on the lips.

"Oh for fuck's sake, there are kids here! Put it away both of you!" Gracie screeches.

"Not a chance witch, tomorrow we are on separate ships, got to make full use of the time we're on land. Tell you what, you stop swearing in front of the kids and maybe I will curtail my desire to show the world how much I love this bastard!"

"Apologies Hawke." Says Damian, "I brought my love here so we could say your goodbyes now, I doubt we'll get time tomorrow."

"Take care of her Damian, don't let her think up idiotic plans, they never work out."

"I won't." Damian laughs.

"I'm going to miss you so much Isabella."

"I bet you barely miss me at all friend," Isabella smiles warmly at her, "You have Fenris, two kids and a bunch of ex-slaves and elves to boss about now, not to mention an elven mage boy whose grandmother you are leaving me to face and explain why he won't be joining the family business. How is he anyway?"

"Alano? I'm not sure Isabella, but he swears he will never step foot on a ship again. I wasn't sure he was going to use his magic ever again, but Fenris spoke to him and he has started lighting the lanterns once more."

"Fenris got him to use his magic?" Isabella was obviously struggling with the idea that Fenris would ever encourage anyone to use magic.

"I think the deal is that he teaches Alano the time stopping spell. I think Alano feels that if he can cast that spell, he will never need to kill anyone ever again. He could be right."

"Where is your lanky husband anyway? I haven't seen him all day."

"He should be back soon, now that it's dark. He went off with Annarrion, Barzal, Argo, Gisharel and Varania and a bunch of others. I think they have been going around making plans, giving Barzal and Argo shopping lists for things they need. I remember Annarrion mentioning a sight where they could mine ore and Gisharel telling Varania where she could find silk worms and flax plants."

"Well it's pretty clear what they plan on doing with themselves, what about you? I doubt there's much mercenary work around here and you can't be a pirate."

"Me? Looking after these two will take up most of my time, and I suspect my farming skills I learnt in Lothering will come in handy. What I really would like to do is start a sort of magic school, the magic sharing needs to be studied and developed."

"Hawke's Circle! Just so long as you don't start locking people in towers and kitting out Templars."

Hawke shakes her head, "No nothing like that. Gisharel pointed out that Dalish mages have never had their freedom curtailed like that and it seems to work. So there is a way for all mages to be free. Harral is intrigued by the idea and Feynriel wants to build a library like the one in my dream. I think it's worth trying."

"Sounds boring to me, but if I come across any interesting artefacts, I'll be sure to send them your way."

"Look for books Isabella, I want books." Harral demands as he approaches with Carver and Anders, "And paper, plenty of paper! I'm going to need it all to fill Feynriel's library!"

"Oh please, don't get him started again." Anders pleads, "He's got us to agree to send him copies of everything the Wardens have and you will not be pleased when he tells you his plans for Hamahakis."

"Why? Harral explain!"

"Anders what is your problem with this? He is going to be in Minrathous anyway and you two will be no good at getting what I'm looking for."

"Hamahakis is going back to Minrathous? You two as well? What are you thinking of, you can't go back!"

"Sister, we have to go back, we never completed our mission for the Gray Wardens and now more than ever they will need to know the situation there. We can go back, they don't know what we look like and I'm sure there will be too much in-fighting amongst mages for them to notice a couple of Wardens snooping about. Hamahakis wants to set up a route the slaves still in Minrathous can use to get here if they want. He spoke with Evi and Cato; there are still many slaves back there that never got the chance to leave. He wants to give them that chance. Harral wants him to steal the books you said were in the Archon's Palace."

Hawke stared at her brother, knowing that she cannot stop any of them from doing this, "What about Orana, is she leaving too?"

Anders chuckles, "No, Hamahakis wants her to stay here until their little one is born at least. He isn't planning on going to Minrathous for good; he just wants to be a guide for those that want to come here. I imagine he will be travelling back and forth fairly regularly. Don't worry, we'll both be back regularly as well. I doubt Carver could be kept away from his new niece and nephew for too long anyway. "

"You realise you will be going on foot, I won't be heading back to Minrathous for some time." Isabella remarks.

"You're going back there too!" Hawke squeals, "Are you mad?"

"You worry too much Hawke. I'm a merchant now; of course I'm going back. I've got a lot of very lucrative contracts to fulfil, in the time it takes me to sort all that lot out, they'll have forgotten who I am. I might just take Gracie's advice and get some new clothes though, but I warn you now, the boots are staying."

"We'll stay for a few more days before heading out." Carver says, "I still want to catch up with everything you've been up too, complete the other part of our mission and decide what lies I'll be telling the Wardens about you."

Fenris and the others arrive back still all talking animatedly about what they plan to do. Taking a moment to check on the children before sitting down with Hawke, Fenris fills her in on what those plans are.

"Have you got a moment Fenris?" Isabella quietly asks him.

Puzzled at her unusual seriousness he nods and they walk to the quieter edge of the clearing. Isabella sighs before reaching into her blouse and pulling out two books.

"You and Hamahakis never got the chance to look for the documents you were seeking and I'm sure they would have been burnt in the fire at the estate laboratory...prison...aw hell! The fucking dungeon of despair thing he had going on there. I searched the rest of the estate, found a few good pieces, but in his study I found these."

The frayed leather bound books had obviously been well used, odd bits of paper stuck out of them and it looked like some of the pages were about to fall out.

"These are Danarius' journals. I thought you should see them and be the one who decides what is to be done with them."

Fenris took the books from her with both hands and paused for a long time before speaking.

"You've read them?"

Tears come into her eyes and Isabella nodded.

"Don't pity me Isabella. Not you. Not now. You and Varric were the only ones who ever made light of what had been done to me. Don't stop."

Isabella sniffs back the tears and tosses her hair, "Well in that case' I'll keep you in mind for pulling out any unwanted extras I have about my person."

"Thank you for these Isabella. You have been a better friend to me than I deserve."

"Oh Lanky, you have no idea!"

"Please Mistress Hawke; I have a great favour to ask of you." Barzal stands in front of her, nervously drawing the brim of his hat through his fingers.

"Captain Barzal, after what you did to get us here, you could ask me to get you the moon and I would not deny you."

"No, no Mistress Hawke, nothing like that. It's my sister you see, she needs lookin' after, help I can't give her. Help not even the ancestors can give her, but you and your friends..."

"Barzal, you have no need to worry, Lenkal will be well looked after."

"I don't wish her to be a burden, I will give you coin..."

"There is no need! Have you spoken to your sister lately?" Varania interrupts.

The dwarf shakes his head, tears coming into his eyes. Clear that Barzal is finding it too painful to see his sister and cannot cope with what had been done to her.

"Go and speak with her," Varania says gently, "Lenkal is much better than she was. I doubt we can heal her fully, but you will be pleasantly surprised I think. You should say goodbye to her, she is with the elf children."

He nods and heads off to the aravel with a heavy heart, annoyed with himself that an elf should remind him of his brotherly duties.

"Is Lenkal really that much better?" Hawke asks. She had only briefly caught sight of the sickly dwarf when they left the ships and had not spoken with her.

"I believe so. Marta could tell you how unwell she was when they found her. Once Barzal told them she was Lyrium Addled, one of the mages who had spent some time in the Circle in Ferelden recalled a book that a dwarf who stayed there had written. It gave him some ideas on how to heal her and it helped a great deal. She is still very weak and she can talk now, but it is like talking with a child. I do not know how much more she can recover. The children love her and she plays with them, she seems to enjoy that."

"She sounds like Sandal, perhaps we could send a letter to Bodahn. He might be able to help."

"I'm glad Barzal asked that she stay here. I would like to see what more can be done."

More and more people drifted into the clearing, passionately discussing their plans for the future, reassuring each other that this new life was going to be better and saying their goodbyes long into the night.

* * *

><p>The sun rose in a clear blue sky. A fresh wind blew in from the sea that sparkled with the reflected light on the waves and caught the sails that billowed out from all five ships. Hawke watched until they were no more than dots on the horizon. It felt strange that this time it was she who was on land while others left to carry on their adventures without her.<p>

"Are you sure you don't wish you were going with them?"

"Quite sure."

Hawke catches Fenris' hand feeling the vibration as their rings touch.

"Let's go home."

_A/N Done at last! Hope you enjoyed the ride. If you're reading this then thank you so much for taking the time. I'm off to write something else now!_


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